Apologies
by KatieH42
Summary: That awkward moment when you wake up from brain surgery and have to apologize to your younger brother
1. Chapter 1

Dick woke up.

Normally, he didn't mind waking up that much. New day, new chance to help people, all that other cheerful, uplifting stuff.

This time not so much. The only thing that was waiting for him this time was a pounding headache and a wave of nausea. He grunted and shuttered and swallowed back a mouthful of bile.

He wasn't sure when exactly he started hearing Bruce's voice in his head whenever he felt sick repeating "breath" over and over, but there it was. Like most things Bruce taught him, it was good advice. After a few of them, he started to feel better. Or a little better anyway. Well enough to open his eyes.

"Dick? You all right?"

It took a lot of effort to roll his head over towards the voice that had asked the question. He really didn't expect it to be Tim who was sitting next to him, leaning towards him anxiously and putting his hand on Dick's shoulder. That was weird, why was Tim here?

"Guess so," he muttered.

"You need anything?" Tim asked.

"Water?" he suggested. "Or maybe to throw up." He really wasn't sure which one needed to happen more. His mouth was so dry he wasn't sure he could move his tongue, but his stomach was enthusiastically twisting around, apparently crawling towards his throat.

"Got you covered," Tim said, holding up a glass of water, with a straw in it, in one hand and a small silver tray in the other. "Whichever happens first."

"Thanks," he rasped, looking back and forth between them, and still hearing Bruce's voice in the back of his head repeating "breath". Finally he decided on the water. He leaned forward, reaching his mouth for the straw. Tim's hand caught the back of his head, which hurt a little but was pretty much the only way he was going to get there. "Thanks," he muttered after he'd taken a sip and leaned back into the pillows behind him.

"Don't mention it," Tim said. "How's your head? Leslie said you might need another dose of morphine."

"It's not that bad," Dick lied. It was relative right? Getting shot had hurt a lot more, the headaches before the surgery had hurt almost this bad, but in this case he knew he wasn't going to die from them so which made them a little more manageable.

Still, the thumping in his head was the last thing he wanted to think about, so he asked "what're you doing here?" instead.

"Guarding," Tim said with a grin.

"Isn't here the Batcave?" Dick asked, rolling his eyes around a little. Yeah, he knew the smell of the place even if he couldn't see it very well. Kind of damp and cool, but also homey somehow. No where else in the world smelled like the Batcave. It made him feel safer, calmer and his stomach started to settle a little more.

"Yeah," Tim agreed.

"Why are you guarding me if I'm in the Batcave?"

"He wouldn't leave," Tim growled looking over to the other side of Dick's bed. Very slowly because moving his head definitely hurt, Dick turned to see Damian, curled up in a little ball in a chair, apparently sound asleep. "I'm not leaving you alone with him."

"You left me alone with him for months Tim," Dick pointed out, smiling kind of wearily. The kid looked kind of peaceful when he was out cold. He looked like a child and even though he was one, Dick didn't think of him as anything other than a small, annoying assassin most of the time.

"Yeah but you were awake enough to do something about it if he tried to kill you."

"Damian's not going to try to kill me," Dick said, grimacing at little while he spoke, although he wasn't sure if it was the headache that was getting steadily worse or because of that time Damian tried to kill him.

"If you say so," Tim agreed. "You made him your Robin. But I'm still not going anywhere."

"I'm kind of glad," Dick said really, really softly. "Must be the morphine talking." Tim laughed a little and leaned back into his chair. There was a thick book balancing on the arm and when his elbow bumped it and knocked it into his lap Tim tucked it under the chair. "Where's Bruce?" Dick asked.

"Off working on his newest ridiculous master plan," Tim said.

"What is it?" Dick asked.

"It's too crazy for me to explain it," Tim answered. "Bruce's going to have to tell you. Speaking of, he wanted me to give him a call when you woke up. Do you mind if I?" He pulled out his phone and waved it back and worth for a second.

"Go for it," Dick agreed.

He needed a minute to catch his breath anyway and to think things over. He remembered the fight, he remember Bruce coming back, he remember Damian as they left Bruce to handle Dr. Hurt but after that the details were fuzzy. Apparently he'd made it to a clinic or a hospital because he wasn't paralysed and there was an IV dripping morphine and fluids into his arm. That was good. Surgery, that explained the nausea.

"Hey," Tim said. "Yeah, he's awake. No, he seems pretty coherent. Yeah, all right I'll see you shortly then. Okay."

Typical conversation with Bruce. Short, to the point, not weighed down by any unnecessary words. Dick smiled and he wasn't even sure why. "He said he'd be back as soon as he can," Tim said, hanging up.

"I'm sorry I didn't believe you. I mean, about Bruce being lost in time."

"Don't worry about it," Tim said. "Every time I said it out loud I realized how crazy it sounded and I knew it was true. I understand why you didn't. Besides, you were needed here. It sounds like you've made a good impression around town."

"I still should have trusted you," he said. Tim shrugged. "When'd you get here?"

"I was actually on my way back to Gotham when Bruce called," Tim explained. "I'd just figured it out and was coming to tell you and see if Bruce'd turned up." Typical. Sometimes Dick thought Tim was too smart for his own good.

"So I haven't been out for that long then?" Dick muttered, feeling a little better now that things were starting to make sense. It didn't make his head hurt any less though.

"No, it's been about ten hours since your surgery," Tim said. Dick nodded and immediately wished he hadn't. He clamped his teeth down hard on the groan that almost slipped out. "I got here at the prefect time to keep an eye on your little Robin over there."

"Tim, I'm sorry I made Damian Robin instead of you. You know it's just because," Tim interrupted and waved his hand.

"I know," he said. "It doesn't matter. You did what made sense. Maybe it even helped the little demon, I don't know but I still don't trust him."

"That's okay," Dick said. "I do." Tim shrugged again. "Hey, remember what you asked if I needed more morphine and I said no?"

"Yeah," Tim said with a grin, like he'd known that it was coming. Well he probably had. Kid was a damn good detective. He stood up and pulled a syringe out of a drawer somewhere and slowly injected it into the IV.

"Thanks," Dick said. "Sorry to be such a pain in the ass."

"Dick, please just stop apologizing," Tim said with exasperated affection. "Let the morphine kick in and go to sleep. You still need a lot of recovering. I heard Bruce is going to keep you off your feet for months."

"Right. 'Cause we're really good at following doctor's orders around here." Dick couldn't help yawning. Tim smiled. "Will you wake me up when Bruce gets here?"

"I'll try," Tim promised. Dick wasn't sure he liked that answer but he knew for a fact he wasn't going to get a better one before he slipped out of consciousness again. Somewhere above him Tim laughed a little. "You're drooling." Dick managed to smile. Brain surgery aside, it was nice to be home.


	2. Chapter 2

**So, I really thought this was done after the first chapter. Only, then it kind of ... wasn't. I'm not sure if there's more or not... Suggestions? **

"You promise not to let your son murder him?" Tim was saying.

"Damian just saved his life. He's not going to murder Dick," Bruce answered, with a slight edge of amusement in his voice.

Dick wanted to weigh in on the conversation before Damian did but it was taking longer than usual for thoughts to make it from his brain to his mouth. That was because his brain wasn't working that well. Because he'd recently been shot in the head and had brain surgery. He had to start remembering that. It explained the headache.

"Damian's not gonna kill me," he mumbled quietly but he didn't think anyone heard him. Maybe he hadn't said it out loud. Why'd he let Tim give him another dose of morphine? Oh that's why he thought with a grimace as his brain started pounding on the inside of his skull so hard he had to gulp back a mouthful of bile.

He managed to open eyes. His vision wasn't great. Bruce and Tim, he assumed anyway since all he could see was their belts, were on his right, arguing or discussing something important very quietly. Listening was hard. He looked over to the other side of his bed, where Damian had been the last time he'd been awake.

Damian was still there.

He might have been the world's greatest detective but Bruce could be really slow sometimes. Damian wasn't asleep.

"Damian," he said, a little louder. The kid uncoiled way faster than he possibly could have if he'd actually been sleeping and bounced over to his side in two quick steps. Bruce and Tim stopped talking quickly. Bruce frowned, Tim looked a little embarrassed at least. "Is not going to kill me."

"Grayson," he said. "How are you feeling?"

"Alive," he said. "But not great. You?"

"I'm fine," he said a little scornfully. "I did not get shot. You did. I haven't been asleep for eighteen hours either."

"Is that all?" he said. "Hey Bruce," he added.

"Hi," Bruce said. "You all right?" Dick nodded. "Good," he said. He dropped a hand onto Dick's shoulder affectionately. From Bruce that was the equivalent of wildly jumping up and down, throwing his arms around Dick and spinning them both in a circle. Dick smiled, even though it seemed to take a whole lot more energy than he remembered.

"Tim said you had a crazy plan," Dick muttered. "Hey Tim." Tim grinned with half his mouth and nodded his head.

"We'll talk about it when you're feeling better," he said. He looked so paternal, gazing down at Dick with a half smile and something in his eyes, pride maybe? What had Dick done to deserve that? Survive brain surgery? It hadn't been that hard, although at the moment he was kind of wishing he hadn't. His head and belly would probably feel a lot better if he was dead.

"Bruce," he said softly. "Will you stay here for a few minutes?"

"Yeah," he answered. "I'll be right here."

"What about your plans?" Dick asked. Waking up had been easier the last time, why was it harder? He was in less pain, that wasn't helping. He was happier too, less worried about everyone. Without the adrenaline everything was foggy.

"Tim can handle them for a bit," Bruce said. "If you don't mind," he added, looking over at Tim who was looking at Dick with a sort of half amused, half concerned smile.

"Nah, Dick and I already had our bonding moment of the day," Tim said. "See you later Dick. Feel better."

"'Kay," he agreed. "So you said you'd talk about time when we had some," he said looking up at Bruce. Damn it, he usually had eyes that actually focused but it was just so hard to do right then. He sat up but about two inches of effort made him so dizzy he blacked out for a minute.

"Easy," Bruce was repeating to him. "Breath. You're all right Just breath." Bruce's hands were on his shoulders, he was pinning him back in the bed.

"What's wrong with him?" Damian sounded like he was begging.

"Nothing, he's fine," Bruce said agitatedly. "Dick, keep breathing, you're all right." His hands were on Dick's shoulders, they were squeezing him gently, they were trying to comfort him. "Another deep breath."

"I'm fine," he said at last, a little weaker than he wanted but there it was. He took another breath and repeated it. "I'm fine." He should have brushed Bruce's hand away, that was how he would show he was okay but he didn't really want to. Bruce's steady hands were reassuring. And Bruce had been dead, and he'd felt alone and empty for so long. It was nice to be close to him. "Sorry."

"Maybe you should stay down," he recommended gently.

"Coming from the master of obeying doctors' orders," he growled.

"This isn't a doctor's order," Bruce informed Dick. "This is my order."

Dick leaned back into the pillows and nodded. Then yawned. Man, brain surgery can really take a lot of you, he thought to himself. He took another deep breath and tried to relax his muscles, really any of them. Damn he was sore.

"Oh, damn it Dick I forgot to tell Tim something. Will you be okay for a minute?"

"Yup," Dick answered, trying to sound irritated or sarcastic or anything but disappointed. "I assume that if the doctors thought I was gonna die you'd have told me by now."

"I'll be right back," he said, reassuringly. "Damian?" he asked

"I will stay here to prove to Drake that I have no intention of killing Grayson," he said, standing up and stepping closer to Dick's beside with a haughty look on his face. Dick smiled a little and looked down at his hands. Bruce patted his shoulder and then left. "Grayson?" Damian said very quietly once Bruce was gone.

"What's up?" he asked.

"I am sorry about that time I tried to kill you," he said softly.

Dick managed not to sigh out loud. His head hurt way to much to whip up a decent pep talk form Damian, but he clearly needed one. "It wasn't your fault Damain," he said, gesturing weakly for the boy to come closer. The kid looked so tired and upset, Dick thought that he might be able to get away with convincing Damian to sit on his bed. It would make looking at him a little easier. "That was Talia, not you."

"I was angry at you," he said desperately. "If I wasn't mad she wouldn't have been able to take control and," it was so rare that the kid rambled that Dick almost let him keep at it just to see how long he could go, but that seems a little mean. And his head was killing him.

"You don't know that," he said, kind of weakly throwing his hand towards Damian's. Apparently he was looking really pathetic because the kid took a few steps closer and sat down the edge of the bed. Dick wanted to smile, but he didn't. Nothing spooked Damian like a public display of affection. "It's okay to be mad at the people you love Damian. Actually it's normal. You think I've never been angry at Bruce or you or Tim? It's just part of loving people. Talia, Ra's, they always try to use love against us, because they think it makes us weak. It doesn't."

"Now that Father is back, what will happen to us?" Damian asked.

"Don't know," Dick said. "We'll work it out though, I promise."

"When Father resumes being the Batman, what will happen to me?" Damian asked. "Father doesn't trust me. No one does."

"Alfred does," Dick said with a smile. "And I do. Tim'll get over it. I mean, you did try to kill the guy the first time you met him but he's smart. After a while he'll realize how good you are. Bruce too. Just be patient and try not to injure or threaten anyone they like for a few weeks okay?"

"Fine," he agreed.

"Damian, I umm, I don't think I can stay awake for much longer," he said. "Would you just hang out with me for a few minutes until I'm out?" God he must have brain damage somewhere they didn't fix. It wasn't like he was ten years old anymore. He was perfectly capable of passing out all by himself. But he just didn't want to.

"Yes Grayson," Damian agreed. "I will tell Father he took too long."

"I'm not sure that's the best way to go about getting him to trust you," Dick muttered. "But I'll give you points for balls if you do." He smiled sleepily and didn't hear what Damian said.

Bruce came down a few minutes later Damian had curled up next to Dick, apparently sleeping but he wasn't going to let the boy trick him with that again. He pulled up a chair and dragged it next to the bed. He needed to think, and here was as good a place as any. Maybe better, since everyone he loved was safe and in easy rescue range.

"You took too long better back," Damian said quietly, and pretty viciously. "He fell asleep again."

"I'll wait," he said. "You both waited a lot longer for me." He sat back in the chair and wrapped his arms around his chest. He was more tired than he cared to admit and if he couldn't keep working, a nap would probably be a good use of his time. "You still are, aren't you?" he said.

Damian glared at him as he moved away from Dick, obviously being very careful not to wake him. "Thanks for staying with him," Bruce said as his son walked around the bed and headed for the stairs.

"Someone had to," he tossed back.


	3. Chapter 3

**Uggh this isn't going well. **

Dick was pretty tired of all this waking up to fall asleep crap he realized miserably as he did it again. Waking up was getting a little better – less nauseating, more head aching. But already he knew that the staying awake wasn't going to be easy, or pleasant.

Reluctantly he opened his eyes to see who was watching him this time.

To his surprise, no one was there. He didn't want to feel like a sulky, pouting ten year old but it kind of bothered him that everyone was too busy for him and his getting shot in the head.

Experimentally he tried to throw the blanket off his legs. The last time he'd tried to get his arms to work it had been clumsy, they hadn't really felt like his arms at all, just silly rubber extremities attached to his chest. This time it was better. His fingers closed around the edge of the blanket and he jerked it off of him. It hurt, but not particularly badly. He felt around his head cautiously as he carefully, slowly shifted his hips a little closer to the edge of the bed. That hurt a lot, enough to twist a quiet moan out of his mouth and pin him back against the pillows but after another few breaths the pain drifted further back and he tried again.

He only got another few inches but it felt like progress. His feet were hanging over the edge of the bed at least, just a half a foot from the floor. At this rate in about a half hour, he'd make it.

"Dick?" Bruce said in that tone that he had, his did-you-really-think-you'd-get-away-with-that? tone.

Dick grinned a little ruefully and carefully, slowly started to shift himself back into the bed. Bruce came over, clearly exasperated and lifted Dick back into bed. Dick was a little surprised how gentle Bruce could be, when he really worked at it. He settled Dick back into the pillows and pulled the blankets over him.

"Don't try to get up again," he said. "You're still on an IV by the way so I'm not sure where you thought you were going."

"I didn't have a destination in mind," Dick grumbled. "Just a little restless."

"Was I unclear about my orders regarding your recovery time?" Bruce asked. Dick shook his head and then kind of had to slam his hand against the bridge of his noise to try to drive the pain back. Bruce leaned closer to him, putting his hand against Dick's shoulder. "You all right?"

"Yeah," he said. He was pretty exhausted and he had one of the most painful headaches he remembered but he was sick of sitting and lying and being useless. "I'm fine. Headache, that's all."

"Leslie's going to stop by later to do an examination. I don't want to wait until the one we've scheduled with the brain surgeon."

"Paranoid much?" Dick muttered on his his breath.

"When it comes to you dying, yes," he said, a little harsher than he meant to. "Do you think you'd take your Robin's brain surgery lightly?"

"That's not fair," Dick grumbled. Bruce didn't say anything. Dick was grateful for that least. "I'm just sick of being useless."

That almost made Bruce smile. Dick knew that he understood.

"What's happening in the outside world?" he asked. "Are Tim and Damian doing okay? They haven't killed each other yet have they?"

"Not through lack of trying," Bruce said. "But Alfred's doing his best to keep them apart."

Dick half smiled at him and settled back into the pillows a little bit more. His head hurt less if he leaned it into something instead of holding it up himself. He didn't want to ask, but he just couldn't be still and silent without going a little bit crazy. Or crazier. "You got a minute?"

"Yeah," Bruce said with a smile. "What's up?"

"Where were you?" He frowned. "Or maybe when were you? Is that the right question?" Bruce nodded and pulled his chair closer.

He looked tired but happy, which for Bruce was pretty remarkable. "When and where both work," he said. "I spent quite a bit of it in Gotham, but not all of it. But from what I hear, you have better stories to tell then I do."

Dick tried to shrug but only got half way through it before he decided that it was going to hurt a lot more than it was worth. "What's this plan Tim mentioned?"

"Right, that," Bruce said almost hesitantly, almost like he wasn't sure Dick would approve, not that Dick's approval was terribly important to him. "I've decided its time to take Batman international."

Maybe it the the head trauma but Dick wasn't processing that statement ever well. "What?" he asked.

"When you're up and ready Bruce Wayne is going to announce that he's been funding Batman for years and that he's now extending his funding to Batmen in all the major cities across the world."

"Bruce people are going to figure it out," Dick said, pushing himself upright. Bruce leaned forward like he was preparing to push Dick back into the pillows, but surprisingly it didn't really hurt that much, or any more than just being awake did and when he didn't grimace or groan or anything Bruce leaned back again.

"They're not," Bruce said. "It's actually going to help distance Bruce Wayne from Batman since he's going to be keeping a relatively high profile in all over the world and Batman's still going to be in Gotham."

"Bruce," Dick said quickly, "You're back, you should be the one wearing the cowl. I'm not good at being you." Bruce smiled. "Stop it, you're freaking me out."

"Sorry," he said. "I can brood more, if you'd like."

"That would help," Dick agreed. "Are you sure about this Bruce? If you do this, you're changing the game for all of us."

"I know," he said. For a minute they didn't say anything. But it wasn't an uncomfortable silence. It was the silence Dick had grown up with, between himself and Bruce. It didn't mean they had nothing to say to each other. It meant there were some things that couldn't be said.


	4. Chapter 4

When Dick heard someone moving through the Batcave he froze. Sort of. Since he was lying on the ground about ten feet from his bed, freezing probably wasn't going to help him escape notice but maybe if he was really lucky whoever it was would just go away if they didn't hear him moving.

And if they didn't, he was praying it was Damian.

The last thing Dick wanted was for Bruce or Tim or Alfred to find him bleeding on the floor, too dizzy and weak to stand up again. He didn't really want to explain it to Damian either, but since Damian already thought he was an idiot it was unlikely to damage their relationship.

For a minute he thought he was safe. He exhaled, moaned and tried to roll himself over. That just twisted the world around so much he wasn't sure which way was up or the direction he was facing. Defeated, at least temporarily he curled up and closed tried to focus on leg of his bed.

"Master Richard, what are you doing down there?" Alfred's shoes asked.

"Don't wanna talk about," he mumbled, trying to keep his mouth closed as much as possible.

"I see," Alfred's shoes said. A moment later Alfred's face appeared, looking at him intently. "Would you like to get back in bed now?"

"Yes please," he said miserably. Alfred pressed his lips together and then his hands were grabbing Dick under the arms and slowly dragging him up again. Bruce was much better at it, he could lift Dick up like he was still a child. Alfred not so much,. He couldn't help but moan a little more pathetically than he wanted too.

"Shall I fetch Master Bruce?" he asked. "He might find it easier to move you painlessly."

"Please no," Dick whimpered.

"Very well," Alfred said, with a sigh.

Dick spent a half hour later that day debating either he had passed out or not in Alfred's attempts to get him back in bed. He didn't remember most of it but either way Alfred got him under the sheet again. "Please don't tell Bruce," Dick panted after Alfred had him covered up and settled in his pillows.

"I suspect Master Bruce will notice, given that you seem to have a split lip and he is the world's greatest detective," Alfred said. "I'll get you some ice."

"Thanks," Dick said weakly. "Got any water?"

"I'll fetch you that as well," Alfred agreed.

"Are you going to tell Bruce?" Dick asked quietly, like he was still a ten year old boy who didn't want to get in trouble.

"Not at the moment," Alfred said. "Please try to stay in bed until I get back?"

"Yes Mom," he muttered.

If Dick was being completely honest with himself the chance of him getting up were pretty low, since every single muscle was aching like he'd set them on fire and that was nothing compared to the headache. He wasn't pissed off at himself for getting up to early, not really. It was bound to happen – he was raised by Bruce Wayne. Getting out of bed before he was physically able to was in his blood. He just wished it didn't have to hurt so much.

Alfred came back with a tray. First he handed Dick the glass of water. "Just hold it," Alfred said. "I don't like the idea of you drink your own blood." Alfred washed his lip and the rest of his face, where the blood was drying. "Now you may have a drink," Alfred informed him.

"Can I breath now too?" Dick asked sarcastically.

"You may," Alfred agreed. "You may also want to put that icepack on that hole in your lip."

"Sound first aid advice," Dick muttered.

He drank most of the cup of water although it didn't seem to sit very well in his stomach, grabbed the icepack, pressed it against his lip and settled back into his pillows. His headache which had been at an all time low about a half hour was definitely reaching a new high and his whole body was shaking a little. He hoped Alfred didn't notice, but then again he'd also always hopped for a dog with wings that he could name Pig and that had never happened either.

"Master Richard, are you all right?" Alfred asked, taking the glass away and putting his bare hand on Dick's forehead. "You're a little feverish."

"I'm freezing," Dick said through teeth that were almost chattering although he was trying not to let them.

"I'll get you another blanket," Alfred said kindly but Dick could tell that he was worried and getting into one of his mother-hen states.

"Please don't tell Bruce," he said again.

"Master Richard, you're running a fever and my expertise regarding brain surgery is somewhat limited. At the very least I believe we need to check with Dr Thompkins."

"She'll tell Bruce," Dick moaned.

"I suggest you rest and do your best to get the swelling in that lip down before Master Bruce sees you with it."

Dick sighed but nodded. He wasn't in much of a position to argue anyway. He closed his eyes. A minute later Alfred came back and he felt gentle hands pulling it up around his chest. "It's all right," Alfred said to him quietly. He didn't try to open his eyes or look around. He was comfortable with his eyes mostly closed and Alfred next to him.

He nodded off and woke up a while later because Alfred was sticking something in his ear. He groaned and moved his head away. Surprisingly it didn't hurt have as much as he thought it would. "He's temperature's coming back down Master Bruce," Alfred said very quietly.

"Good," Bruce said. "Is his taking fluids?"

"Yes," Alfred said. "He'll be all right. It was just a little fever. He probably picked up an infection in the last few days but we caught it quickly, he'll be just fine if he rests. Speaking of."

"I'm fine Alfred," Bruce said but Dick could hear how tired he was.

"Just stay with him for a little while," Alfred said. "He'll wake up soon and it would mean a lot to him if you were here when he does. If you keep working yourself as hard as you worked Master Timothy I'm going to find you passed out over your breakfast as well. Until he's back on his feet..."

"All right," Bruce said. He sounded like he was surrendering. Dick almost smiled.

"I'll be back in a few hours," Alfred said. "Is there anything in particular I should be doing while you wait?"

"Can you set up a meeting with Lucius for the next reasonable time? I want to go over a few more details about the budget."

"Of course sir," he agreed.

Dick listened to Alfred walk away. He was thinking about saying something but it wasn't coming. The best he could go was inch his hand towards Bruce without opening his eyes. He didn't know if Bruce noticed or not. He probably did because he was Bruce Wayne and noticed everything but he didn't say anything. That was okay with Dick.


	5. Chapter 5

"Is Damian okay?" Dick asked a little frantically. "Tim? Alfred? Barbara?"

Bruce jerked his head up. He had been asleep in the chair that Tim had been in when Dick first woke up. Immediately he looked wide awake. Dick had always been jealous of his magical powers of being completely alert in zero seconds flat.

"They're fine," he said quickly. "Why?"

"You're here," Dick said. "And weird dreams I guess."

The adrenaline that was pounding through him was doing a better job of keeping his head from throbbing than the morphine was. He took a deep breath and looked over at Bruce.

Dick would never have admitted how happy he was to see Bruce there, looking him over carefully, slowly, his meticulous detective brain checking for signs that anything was wrong with him. He'd understood his whole life that Bruce couldn't just say it, that he'd never been able to say it, that his obsessive concern was the only way he had found to admit that he loved Dick.

"Should I be offended that you assumed me being here meant one of your brothers was hurt?" Bruce asked, apparently completing his inspection and leaning back.

"Probably," Dick agreed. "Got anything somewhere between morphine and an ibuprofen?" His head ache was kind of a constant thing and he wasn't sure he could handle it and a serious conversation with Bruce at the moment.

"How bad's your headache?" Bruce asked, standing up.

"Bad enough I'm asking, not bad enough to want another morphine trip."

"Try this," Bruce said, opening on of the bottles that Alfred had carefully left out. He swallowed it without question.

"Thanks," he said, leaning back into the pillows for a millionth time. "So, why are you here?"

"I was waiting for you to wake up actually," he said. "I wanted to talk to you before I left."

"Leaving all ready?" Dick asked. He wanted to seem cool with it, and part of him was. This was Bruce, what was he expecting? Time together? To talk about what they'd both been through? No, it was never going to be like that. It would be unbearably awkward even if it did happen. He'd probably be begging for a coma by the end of a half hour heart to heart with Bruce.

But was it too much to ask for a few days with his father? "Didn't you just get back?"

"I won't be gone long," he said. "Definitely not as long as last time. A week at most."

"All right," Dick agreed. "Where you going? Some place warm?"

"A few places actually," he said. "I just want to lay the groundwork for Batman Incorporated before the announcement. I want you to be there, so I'll wait until you are on your feet."

"But?" Dick asked, hearing the but even if Bruce hadn't said it yet.

"But I hope to do it the day after I get back," he said. "If possible," he added hastily. "I don't want you to rush yourself and get hurt again."

Dick sighed.

"I'll do my best," he said trying to keep the misery out of his voice.

"No costumes while I'm gone Dick," Bruce said in his incredibly irritating authority voice that even now Dick was afraid to cross.

"Who's going to patrol?" he asked.

"Someone who can stand up," Bruce said. Dick wasn't quite sure if that was a joke or not. Probably not, but he decided to grin ruefully anyway. "Damian and Tim can handle it until I'm back."

"If they don't kill each other," Dick muttered.

"We talked about it," Bruce said. Dick raised an eyebrow. Bruce frowned and looked at him questioningly.

"You think you talked Tim and Damian out of killing each other?" Dick repeated.

"Yes," he said. "They're both soldiers. They'll do as they're ordered."

"You ordered them?" Dick asked, kind of snort laughing and then wishing he hadn't because it definitely hurt his head. "You think that'll work?"

Bruce didn't answer, just glared at Dick. Stronger men than Dick withered under that stare but he was so exhausted, and his head hurt and if he'd been feeling poetic he'd have said his heart felt like it'd been through a cheese grater. He couldn't muster the energy necessary to cower before his mentor and there was nothing Bruce could do about it.

"You have to promise me that you will not put on a costume while I'm away Dick," Bruce said again. "I need you healthy, and that can't happen if you're pushing yourself too hard."

"Bruce," Dick started but he shook his head. Dick sighed. There was no winning this argument. "Fine," he said. "I promise that until you get back I will not put on any costume, unless it's absolutely necessary to save Damian or Tim or you. Or Alfred. Which is probably the most likely." Bruce smiled at him faintly. "Good enough?"

"Yes."

"Which costume am I not allowed to put on, just for the record?" Dick asked. He wasn't sure if he was joking or not.

"Batman's," Bruce said. "I know you're less then thrilled with that at the moment Dick but you put on that costume for a reason and just because I'm back doesn't mean that reason went away."

"Yes it did Bruce," Dick insisted, pushing himself forward with his arms because moving his neck muscles hurt a lot more. "I put on the cowl because Gotham needed you. I was just a replacement."

"No, you were much more than that Dick," Bruce said. "Gotham needed Batman and you gave it everything it needed. I'm," Bruce started and leaned back, his eyes dropping down to the button on his sleeve. "Of what you did, what you gave up and everything you've tried to do for Damian, I'm, well I'm proud of you Dick." Dick leaned back a little hesitantly. He knew that Bruce loved him but that was so frighteningly close to admitting it that he didn't know what to do. Bruce looked up at him.

"I missed you Bruce," Dick said, instead of answering directly. "I know you think the most important thing you've ever been is Batman, but you've been pretty important to me as a," he trailed off because he wasn't sure which word he was looking for. Brother? Best friend? Father? They all kind of applied. "As Bruce," he finished lamely. "It was hard without you."

"I know," Bruce said.

"No you don't," Dick said very, very quietly. "Bruce I'm not good at being you." Dick knew he was going to start an argument, and a huge part of him just wanted to let it all be, to sit in this moment when he and Bruce had almost said what they meant. But Bruce was leaving and it just felt like there was more to say before he could let Bruce go.

"That's not" Bruce started to say but Dick didn't let him finish.

"What you heard I know. I managed Bruce, that's all. I managed to convince Gordon to trust me, I managed to keep the tied held back for a little while, but that's it. If you're all that stands between Gotham and madness then I was what was kneeling there waving my arms at the madness and hoping it didn't swallow me. Don't ask me to do this."

"I need you to Dick," Bruce said. "Just for a little while. Just until I've got Batman Incorporated started. Then I'll be back and you'll be free to be Nightwing again, if that's what you want."

"That's not fair," Dick said.

"Life isn't fair," Bruce answered back harshly. Dick almost recoiled, like he'd been hit and that hurt his head a lot but he clamped his teeth down into the moan and didn't let it slip out.

"So we should just accept it?" Dick asked. "You're just going to come back into your son's life long enough to leave again? What about Damian? What about Tim, whose been through hell looking for you? You're just going to leave them here? Pretend I'm remotely capable of helping them?"

"Dick, I need to think about things too," Bruce said. "Tim can't just go back to being my Robin again. You know that. What do I have to offer him? And Damian? God Dick what were you thinking?"

"That it was the right thing to do," Dick said. "If there's one thing I did right while wearing the cowl it was picking Damian to be Robin. I wish I could have done it without hurting Tim, but it was still the right thing to do."

"I don't trust him."

"That's great," Dick said. "No one does. You know, for a guy who just professed completely confidence in me, you're certainly reluctant to accept my decisions."

"He's Talia's son Dick!" Bruce snarled. "You want me to believe he can be anything but an assassin?"

"He's a kid, just like I was, only a little more hurt on the inside. He came here to learn from you, to learn to be like you. Instead he got stuck with me, blundering around pretending that I knew how to help him. He deserves to work with you. He deserves a chance with you."

"I'll think about it," Bruce said.

Dick wasn't sure what to make of that. He didn't think he could win an argument against Bruce, but he hadn't completely lost it either, which was something.

"Anyway, I'm leaving in a few hours, I just wanted to make sure you were all right before I left." All right – all right with being forced into a costume that wasn't his, all right with being bedridden until it was convenient for Bruce to have him on his feet again, all right with everything that had happened. All right with Bruce almost saying the impossible three words to his face. " Alfred seems to be a little um, paralysed by indecision at the moment about whether he wants to come with me or not. I expect he'll be down to talk to you shortly. Take care of yourself okay?"

"Yeah," Dick agreed. "You too. I'm not sure I could handle your death. Again." Bruce smiled, just a little but there it was and Dick grinned. Things weren't okay but they'd been worse.

"See you in a week."

Once he was gone Dick leaned back into his pillows again and closed his eyes. He waited a few minutes before calling softly, "Damian?"


	6. Chapter 6

Until about a month ago Dick had been pretty sure that he had found ever single hiding place and eavesdropping spot in the cave. But recently he'd had to admit that Damian had outstripped him. That kid was constantly popping up in strange places, knowing things he shouldn't.

"How long were you there?" Dick asked as the boy slipped into the room.

Damian had never been an easy kid to read, but he was pale. Dick mostly wanted to jump out of bed, bundle the boy up in his arms and just kind of hold him there the way Bruce had once or twice when he was younger and sick or hurt or really heartbroken.

"A while," he said softly.

"Come here," Dick ordered him. In his head it had been a gently suggestion but that wasn't what happened when it got to his mouth. Damian must have felt pretty crappy to just obey silently. "What'd you hear?" Dick asked, patting the bed. Damian climbed onto it. Whenever he did something genuinely childish it kind of tugged at Dick's heart a little.

Damian didn't answer.

"Hey listen," Dick said. "Bruce'll come around. He's a pretty distrustful guy. Kind of like you. But he does warm up to people eventually, I promise. Although not killing Tim would really help your case."

"I will not kill Drake," Damian muttered. He wiggled back from the edge of the bed a little so his back was touching Dick's leg. He wasn't going to say anything, but Damian and Dick both knew it wasn't an accident. "Were you telling the truth? You don't want to be Batman anymore?"

"No," Dick said slowly.

He hadn't seen that one coming.

Damian started to leave the bed again. Dick frowned and grabbed his wrist. "Damian, what's going on? You know Bruce's going to keep you around if for no other reason then he doesn't trust you enough to send you away, which means that you'll get your chance to prove yourself. He might not seem like he wants to trust you, but he really does. You know, very, very, very deep down."

"And then we won't be Batman and Robin anymore."

"No, you'll have the real Batman back," Dick agreed. "He's going to be really hard on you, but it's mostly because he wants you to survive and he will never tell you that the loves you but he does. It'll be all right. You'll learn a lot from him. Way more than you'll learn from me."

"But you," Damian said brutally, angrily, the way he used to talk to him. It hurt his feelings a little. "Never mind. I need to go talk to Drake about something," he stammered gruffly. "About patrol tonight."

"Damian, what's going on?" Dick asked, refusing to let go of his little arm.

"Nothing," he said. "Go back to your old life Grayson."

"Is that what's going on?" he asked and he kicked himself, metaphorically and kind of literally too for not seeing it. "You heard what I said before didn't you? About you being my Robin."

"Yes," Damian agreed reluctantly.

"You know I wasn't lying to him right?"

"You can't lie Father," Damian snapped at him like he was a complete idiot. Trust Damian to absolutely miss the point if it meant a chance to make fun of him. He sighed.

"Mm, you noticed that?" Dick said. "Well, then you know I meant it. Going back to being Nightwing isn't about you. Leaving you, loosing my partner will be the thing I regret the most, Damian."

"But you'll still do it," Damian said.

"You deserve a chance to work with Bruce," he said. "And I really don't deserve to be Batman."

"You have been an adequate Batman," Damian said slowly, like he wasn't quite sure if he wanted to but couldn't think of any other way to prove his point. "And I am an excellent Robin."

"Nothing's going to change that," Dick said with a smile. "Whoever you're Robin...ing... with you'll be awesome." Damian glared at him and Dick almost giggled. He put his hand on Damian's back, just lightly but he felt Damian lean into it a little and he smiled, careful to look down so Damian didn't see it. "And it's not going to change things that much. Within a month I bet Bruce's going to get into something really messy and he'll need saving anyway so we're going to have to partner up for that. And you can always call me, I'll come visit you as often as I can, I promise. We're not going to stop being brothers just because Bruce's back."

Damian didn't say anything. For a really long time. Dick assumed, because it was Damian, and he usually did things for a reason, that he wanted something else, but he had no idea what it was. After a while he collapsed back into his pillows and Damian leaned back against him. Neither of them said anything for a long time.

"Richard," he said at last. "What if I am not as good with Father as I was with you?"

"You will be," Dick said. "And if you're not, I'll just kidnap you and you can be my sidekick."

"That's ridiculous Grayson," he muttered, pushing back against him a little harder. Dick smiled and slipped his hand around Damian so he was nestled up against his side.


	7. Chapter 7

Damian sat with him for a long time until Alfred started shouting at him to come up for dinner. Dick had mostly dozed off. He couldn't have thought of a more comfortable place to be and whatever Bruce had given him was stronger than he wanted it to be.

"You better go," he murmured to Damian. "Before Alfred gets Tim to come find you."

"Fine," Damian growled at him.

"Could you tell Tim I'm going crazy?" Dick asked. "I need to him to give me something to do."

"Yes Grayson, I am your messenger."

"Thanks," he said with a disarming smile.

Once Damian was gone Dick closed his eyes again. He missed Damian's warmth next to him. He hadn't really thought about what would happen when he handed the cowl back to Bruce. He was sure he wanted to. To be Nightwing again, to be able to leap off a building, to tumble, to fight without being burdened by a huge cape and decades of mythology, he dreamed about it sometimes.

When he was a kid Bruce had taken him up to the mountains one winter for some high altitude training, or what Bruce liked to call "a vacation". They'd hiked up to one of the peeks one day, Bruce first and Dick following, like always. The snow got so deep that Dick could hardly move in it. After a while the only way he could keep going at all was by standing in Bruce's foot prints. It was hard to match his child's stride to Bruce's long one. He had to jump and stumble and leap just to get his feet in the right place. By the end of the hike he was exhausted from it and Bruce had carried him home.

Being Batman had always felt a little bit like that day in the snow. Every step was more difficult than it should have been because he wast trying to walk in someone else's footsteps.

But he would miss Damian and Alfred. Well, Tim and Bruce too of course but it had been a long time since he'd gotten so used to having people around, people who's caring for him, no matter how poorly expressed, just became part of his day. Love like that kind of infiltrated his whole life. When they weren't there any more he'd notice. He'd miss them.

"Dick," Bruce said softly. "Are you awake?"

"Yup," he agreed without opening his eyes. "What?"

"Want to join us for dinner?"

"Am I allowed to?" Dick asked eagerly. He was still pretty tired but the idea of getting out of bed at all was just about the most exciting thing that had ever happened to him.

"Yes," Bruce said. "If you let me carry you upstairs."

"Seriously?" Dick whined. "That got old when I was about eleven Bruce." They both knew that Bruce had carried him out of all kinds of situations since then and he hadn't complained about it that much but Bruce had the decency not to point it out.

"I'm about ninety nine percent sure you couldn't walk all the way up the stairs anyway," Bruce said. "If you feel like passing out I'll look forward to catching you and stopping you from splitting your face open. Again." Dick glared. Bruce was kind of mean when he got all sarcastic and right.

"Fine," Dick muttered. "But if you let anyone take pictures of me I will start whistling while I'm on patrol wearing your cowl."

Bruce almost smiled and slipped his hand around Dick who just let himself go limp, all the better to get scooped up like he was a child. The way he carried Damian.

Damian kind of felt like he belonged there, in his arms. Dick wondered, for a horrifying and slightly confusing moment if Bruce had ever felt that way when he had carried Dick around. "You're too big for this," Bruce muttered.

"You ordered this," Dick answered back lightly.

Just the act of getting up the stairs was surprisingly tiring for Dick and he didn't even have to do anything.

"Hey Dick!" Tim said grinning at him as Bruce helped in him into a chair. "Good to see you up and about. Kind of. You all right?"

"Peachy," Dick said, grinning. "Where'd you put Damian? It's not a family dinner without Damian." He grinned and shifted so he was sitting up but he actually really wanted to curl up in a little ball and puke. How could being moved be that difficult?

"Master Damian!" Alfred called. From his tone it was probably like the fiftieth time he'd called. Dick wished Damian would just show up, his head was hammering and the noise made it so much worse. For one really horrible moment he was pretty sure he was going to throw up, and that would really ruin dinner.

"Please," Dick added, trying to be light and fun but it sounded weak to him. Bruce shot him an anxious look that he pretended not to notice. Tim was a little more active about his concern, a minute later his hand was on Dick's shoulder. Bruce had turned his back. Dick was glad. Bruce didn't see how weak he felt.

A second later Dammian appeared. Bruce looked like he was going to say something but Alfred saw that coming and smoothly interjected. "Good. Sit down please."

"Grayson," Damian said, looking him over very meticulously, with that same look Bruce had, when he was looking for signs that anything was wrong with him. "Are you all right?"

"Yeah," he said with a shaky smile. "Sit down."

The food looked awesome. Alfred had clearly made an apology dinner, but Dick wasn't sure it would have stayed in his stomach. Alfred must have noticed that, because he said "Master Richard, I'm afraid you're still on hospital food."

"Thanks, Alfie," he said as Alfred handed him a bowl of soup in front of him.

Dinner was fun, even if it took all his energy to hold himself up and eat at the same time. Without his witty jokes the conversation was a little bit weak every few minutes but Tim and Alfred picked up the slack and kept the conversation from lapsing into Damian and Bruce glaring at each other.

When everyone was done the phone rang. Alfred went to answer it. Dick was pretty sure he was going to fall asleep with his face in the mostly empty soup bowl. "Master Bruce it's for you," Alfred said. He excused himself. "Master Tim, Master Damian if you're going on patrol tonight then you should head down to the cave shortly."

Damian nodded curtly and jumped up. Tim grinned at Dick and said "Thanks Alfred," as he staked the plates from the table.

"Be careful out there," Dick said weakly as Tim left the table. His insides were squirming. It wasn't the food, he just felt too tired for anything to work, even his guts. Why was everything so hard? One bullet in the back of the head, a blood clot and somehow everything becomes crippling difficult.

"I will," Tim promised.

"Damian too," Dick insisted.

"Fine," Tim agreed, rolling his eyes. "I will bring the demon child back to you unharmed." Then he was gone. Dick wanted to glare at him for being able to walk around on his own two feet.

Alfred came around and sat down down next to him. Something was playing on his face, Dick frowned when he saw it. Alfred usually looked so calm that even when he kind of wished he was in a medically induced coma, Dick knew something was up. Alfred, sitting down when there were dishes to do? Unlikely unless there was a huge crisis somewhere.

"You okay?" Dick asked.

"Yes Master Richard," Alfred said automatically. Dick frowned and looked over at him. Looking, when did looking become so hard? Then he cocked any eyebrow curiously. "Not really," Alfred said quietly.

"Can I help?" Dick asked.

"I don't think it's the kind of problem anyone can help with," Alfred said softly. "And it's not the kind of problem you can punch until it goes away."

"I can't get back to bed until Bruce comes to get me," Dick said, sounding very begrudging but also joking a little. "If you want to talk?"

Alfred looked him in the eye for a moment, very thoughtfully, then he nodded and took a deep breath. "For most of his life I've served Master Bruce and no one else. I've never had conflicting loyalties before. Of course I'd take a bullet for you or Master Timothy or Master Damian but Master Bruce, well he has always been different," Alfred explained awkwardly. "But he was dead. My loyalties passed to you, completely. Now I must decide to go with Master Bruce, who I have happily followed my whole life and leave you here with the knowledge that you are almost certainly going to do something to endanger your life and be worried sick about you or stay here with you and wonder constantly if Master Bruce needs me."

"Alfred," Dick said quietly and rather miserably. "I never..."

"I know, Master Dick," Alfred said. "None of us asked for this and none of us regret Master Bruce's return but still, we are not the people we were before he was gone."

"That is true," Dick agreed. "Too true. But go with him. We'll be fine."

"Richard, I have thought of you as a son, or perhaps a grandson for all the time I have known you," he said heavily. "And in that time I have spent more time at your bedside, praying that you would survive than any one man deserves to. And there is no worse hell in this world that waiting for someone you love to die. But every time you've come back to us. Forgive me if I'd started to believe that I should be with you every time I hear that you're bedridden."

Dick wasn't really sure there was anything to say after that. So he didn't say anything.

"Besides," he said, "you will do something foolish if you're left unattended. Put on a cowl for example."

"To be honest, dinner wiped me out," Dick said, with a very tired smile. "I don't think I could."

"Should that make me feel better?" Alfred asked. Dick managed to chuckle even though it hurt his head. And his ribs. And his stomach. And probably his toes if he'd stopped to think about them.

"I promise not to," Dick said. "I promised Bruce too."

"Forgive me if I assume you'll break that promise under enough pressure," Alfred said.

"Only to," he paused long enough to yawn, "save Tim or Damian or Babs. Or you, but if you're with Bruce then you'll," he yawned again, "be safe."

"I'm going to fetch him," Alfred said, standing up. "Before you fall asleep on my table."

"Alfred," Dick said quietly. "Go with him. I've got Tim and Damian. We'll be all right."

A few minutes later Dick woke up because Bruce's hands were pulling him off the table. "Can I sleep in my room?"

"All right," Bruce said, as he lifted him up in his arms. "You should have told me you weren't up for this Dick."

"You kidding?" he mumbled. "This was awesome." He thought he heard Bruce laugh as he got pressed against his chest but he wasn't quite sure. Before he could decide, he was asleep.


	8. Chapter 8

**This isn't going well. Again. I apologize. **

Dick woke up again. This time without the waves of nausea or the crippling headaches. He wanted to wake up this time. Everything smelled different than the last time. Because it wasn't the cave. It was his bed. He smiled into the pillow and closed his eyes again.

After a few minutes though he decided he had to pee too badly to just stay in bed, so he rolled over and started feeling around for the blankets that were tangled around his legs. A piece of paper fell on his face.

He grunted at it and brushed it off. Then lifted his head up enough to read it.

_Alfred left with Bruce. If you need anything, shout for me. DO NOT do anything stupid. Tim. _

"Does peeing count as stupid?" Dick wondered out loud.

He suspected that it did, but after a few minutes of debate he decided that he couldn't wake up Tim to help him hobble to the bathroom. He untangled his feet and set them on the floor carefully. That required him to sit up. He expected it to hurt, which it did. He expected that to make him dizzy, which it didn't. He took this as a good sign and proceeded to very slowly, very carefully push himself off the bed, aiming for the wall.

It was a lurch, not a graceful movement, but it got him as far as he need it to. He leaned on the wall and used it to shuffle his way around the room until he got to his bathroom.

"So far so good," he muttered as he launched himself at the sink.

It all went a little south on his way back to his bed when he crashed down, too dizzy to find his feet. Luckily, he mostly ended up at the foot of his bed, where he kind of grabbed at the comforter and managed to stop himself from slipping off and landing on the floor. Because that would have been embarrassing.

"Dick?" Tim asked. "Whatcha doing?"

Of course, Tim would be walking by at the moment. God, he was getting as bad as Bruce at just turning up at annoying, inappropriate moments.

"Falling off my bed," he muttered. "Obviously."

"Did you want a hand or should I just stand here and watch?"

"Not sure yet," Dick said as he lost a few more inches. The comforter slipped. Tim threw himself down on the bed so it stopped moving before Dick hit the floor but at that point he might as well have been sitting down anyway. "Okay," he agreed. "A hand would be good."

Tim grinned and scrambled across the bed. He caught Dick under his arms and gently hauled him back up onto the bed.

"That's getting less painful every time it happens," he observed as he rubbed his head, which now boasted a hangover level headache and no worse.

"Maybe you should just stay in bed so it doesn't have to keep happening?" Tim suggested as he grabbed a pillow from the other end of the bed to lean against the foot board. "You know, the condition of Alfred leaving was that I would promise to keep you in bed no matter what. You've already made me a liar."

"I had to pee," he said. "And I thought you might still be asleep. How was patrol? You okay?"

"Yup," Tim agreed."Fine. Not much happening."

"Damian?"

"He's fine. I think. I haven't seen him since we got back but he was fine when we got in this morning."

"Probably hiding," Dick said. "I'm sure he'll resurface when he gets bored and wants to pick a fight with someone. Ten bucks says it'll be you."

"Thanks," Tim said. "Anyway, I guess if I want to keep my promise to Alfred I'm going to have to wait on you. So, what can I get you? Breakfast?"

"That'd be good," he agreed. "And something to do Tim, god please give me something to do."

"Right, because getting your skull to heal is too boring, I know," Tim said.

"It is!" he whined. "Come on, when was the last time you successfully spent a week recovering?"

"Okay, fair point," Tim agreed as he helped Dick jam the pillow behind his back. "What do you want to eat?"

"What can you cook?" Dick asked back.

"That was kind of a trick question actually," Tim answered. "Alfred said you were still on hospital food, so you pretty much get toast and juice. Maybe tea. If you're nice I'll let you pick what I put on the toast though."

"You don't have to sound so gleeful," Dick said, glaring at him. Tim smirked. "I miss Alfred."


	9. Chapter 9

"Damian!" Dick called frantically when he heard the boy walking down the hall.

"What?" Damian, sticking his head into the bedroom and looking at Dick suspiciously.

"Come talk to me, give me something to do, please, throw things at me, whatever you want. I'm so bored," Dick begged. Breakfast had been about three hours ago and with the exception of the short nap he'd taken, every single second had been torture.

"You're pathetic," Damian said.

"I know," Dick agreed. "I just hate sitting around. It makes me crazy."

"You're always crazy," he said. "Why are you at the wrong end of the bed?"

"Long story," Dick muttered. "How was patrol last night? Tell me everything that happened."

"Nothing particularly interesting happened," Damian said, sitting down next to him. "Dr Hurt left the streets too messy for anything organized to start up for at least a week or two. It was mostly just muggings and assaults, a few murders, that kind of thing."

"Sorry I'm missing it," Dick said. Damian glared at him. Oh that kid could glare like this daddy. "Look, anything's better than this."

"Grayson," Damian said after a minute. "You tell me that it's a good thing to follow my gut." Dick nodded and waited for him to finish. After about a minute of silence, Dick concluded that he wasn't going to.

"What's your gut saying?" he prompted.

"That something was strange about two of the murders last night," he said thoughtfully. "They didn't seem as random as they look."

Dick sat up, even though that did make his brain knock against the inside of his skull like it was a big base drum. "What do you mean?" he asked.

"There was a messy death," Damian said. "Rich man, alley. I've seen him before – I think he has a favourite pimp there but something about his death wasn't right. He'd been sliced up really badly but I think he was dead before it happened."

"What makes you think that?"

"I thought," Damian frowned and thought about it very carefully before answering, "I thought I saw a bullet wound."

"Where?" Dick asked. There were lots of obvious answers to that. Maybe there was a gun and a knife in the fight, there were multiple injuries, that kind of thing. But he didn't say any of those things, he waited for Damian to finish observing.

"His heart," Damian said at last. "Right through it actually."

"Wait, straight though it?" Dick asked, sitting up as best he could. "Like sharp shooting straight or like lucky shot straight?"

"Straight shooting,," Damian said. "And there was another body later in the night that didn't seem right. Not slashed though. Chewed on."

It was funny, Dick thought as he squirmed a little. If he'd been there, he would have calmly looked the bodies over without batting an eye but hearing a ten year old who he loved to talk about poking around corpses made him stomach skitter just a little. "By what?" he asked, not sure he wanted the answer.

"I don't know, dogs probably," he said. "Which couldn't possibly be the cause of death."

"Why don't you ask Gordon if you can see the bodies?" Dick suggested. "Or I can call him if you want. Or we could hack into the coroners report."

"You just want to have something to do," Damian said accusingly.

"There's that," Dick agreed smiling a little. "But I also trust you Damian, and your instincts. If you think somethings up with this, then it probably is and we should check it out."

Damian turned away from him for a minute and thought. Dick wanted to drum his fingers and whistle or something but that would probably make Damian punch him. He thought he was doing pretty well with the whole recovering thing. A good punch from Damian could probably set him back like a week, so he sat as still as he could and waited for Damian to make up his mind.

"Fine," Damian said at last. "We'll do it. I will go get Drake's computer."

"Better get mine," Dick said. "It's not as good as Tim's but it'll decrease the chance of you getting murdered by Tim."

"As if," Damian snapped, jumping off the bed and scampering away.

He didn't have to wait very long before Damian came back with his laptop. "Are you sure this thing can do what we need it to do?"

"I've let Babs and Tim and Bruce upgrade that thing," Dick said happily. "It's no Batcomputer but there isn't a hell of a lot if can't do." He frowned. "Don't tell Bruce I talk like that in front of you."

"Fine," Damian said. "Let's see the coroner's report."

"You want me to do it?" Dick asked, his fingers practically twitching at the thought of having something useful to do.

"No," Damian said coldly, opening up the computer and turning it on.

"You at least need me to unlock it."

"Who says?" Damian asked.

"How long have you been able to do that?" Dick asked with a groan as Damian passed through his security easily. Suddenly he understood Bruce a lot better.. Damian shrugged. "I'm not sure if I'm pissed off at you or proud."

"Neither is relevant," Damian said, but Dick was pretty sure he'd seen him Damian sit a little straighter when the word "proud" had slipped out of his mouth.

"Let me at least see?" Dick said, whining a little. He expected Damian to make fun of him but he didn't, just moved so he was leaning his back against the foot board too. Dick watched him enthusiastically hacking into the police database. Dick had to admit, Damian might never be Tim, but he was already as good as Dick. He'd probably be better by the time he was Dick's age.

"Here it is," he said after only a few moments.

"You're right," Dick said, pointing to the picture of the man's chest. "Right there," he said. "That's too clean a wound for a knife. Where's the other one?"

"Here," Damian said.

"Ouch," Dick said with a grimace. "You're right. No one could possibly have held still while that was done to them. He must have died first but it's going to be brutally hard to find what actually killed him. We might need to see the body to figure this one out."

"I'll go see it tonight," Damian said.

"Where'd you find the first body?" Dick asked. "I'll get Tim to help me down to the Cave, we can see if we can find any security camera footage. Did you investigate the scene?"

"Only a little," Damian said. "It was raining last night and there was hardly any blood at all."

"So either the rain washed it all away or..." he started.

"He wasn't killed there."

"Exactly," Dick agreed. He grinned. He felt a little guilty about being so gleeful when two men where dead, but this was something he could do. This would break up the tedium. "Can you go and find Tim for me?" he asked. "I need him to help me downstairs."

Damian glared again.


	10. Chapter 10

**I do apologize for being so brutally slow. It's my month of April resolution to not be this slow anymore, but the internet tells me that most people don't keep their month of April resolutions. Or most other resolutions. Still, I'll do my best. **

"I can't believe that you're doing this for a few dead thugs," Tim grunted brokenly as he carried Dick down the stairs.

"It's like you don't even know me," Dick panted. "What else would I do with a couple of dead thugs?"

"If Bruce finds out, he's going to kill us both," Tim gasped. Dick stumbled and most of his weight came down on Tim's shoulders.

"He won't," Dick groaned.

"Right," Tim agreed. "He's the world's greatest detective. I'm sure he won't be able to figure out what happened when he finds our bodies on the stairs."

"Can we stop for a second?" Dick asked, swallowing audibly.

Tim was pretty quick about lowering Dick to the ground, setting him against the wall and dashing off for the closest garbage can. "How you doing?" he asked when he was back next to Dick who had his head between his knees and was breathing too deeply and rhythmically to be natural. He set his hand on Dick's shoulder, kind of rubbing it gently and soothingly. Dick managed a smile.

"Don't let Damian see you like that," Dick muttered. "I'm not sure if he'll try to break your face or blackmail you."

"If blackmail is the worst thing he can come up with, I'll handle it," Tim said. "Are you sure you want to do this?"

"I can't spent another six days in bed Tim," Dick said. "I can't."

"If Bruce hadn't raised you I'd say you're being ridiculous," Tim said. "But compared to him you're being sensible. Let me know when you're ready to try again. Or if you'd rather, I don't know, have me get you some pillows and blankets and ginger ale and leave you here for a while."

"You just don't want me throw up on you," Dick muttered.

"Obviously."

They sat there in silence for a few minutes. Dick wasn't sure talking was a good idea and Tim couldn't think of anything to say. But it wasn't an awkward silence, it was a friendly one. Dick looked up at Tim when the movement of lifting his head didn't sent shooting pains through his head, and nausea crashing around in his stomach and smiled at him. He was clearly deep in thought about something, focusing on a knot in the wood a few steps down. "We need to hang out more," he said.

"What?" Tim asked, tearing his eyes away from that spot and looking at him.

"We need to hang out more," Dick repeated. "Just for fun you know. When one of us isn't about to vomit." He paused. "Unless it's for a fun related reason anyway."

Tim laughed. "Sounds good," he agreed. "As long as you don't bring the demon child."

"I love the kid but some time apart never hurts us," Dick agreed. "Come on, help me up and let's give these stairs another try."

"You sure?"

"Yup."

"No puking?"

"Hope not."

"Okay then," Tim said. "I'm going to grab your elbow now." He stood up, moved the garbage can out of the way and reached down for Dick.

"Solid," Dick agreed, lifting his elbow up a few inches helpfully. Tim laughed.

They made it all the way down to the bottom to the stairs before Dick pointed down at the bench at the bottom of them. "Please?" he whined.

"Yup," Tim agreed. "Will you be okay if I leave you for a minute? I'm hungry."

"Go for it," Dick agreed. "Pretty sure I'll still be there."

He took a few deep breathes. Once that air had settled him a little he wondered where Damian was. Probably in the Cave. Tim had appeared shortly after Damian had left and Dick hadn't seen his little bird since. "At this rate Damian will have found the murder before I even get there," he muttered.

"Talking to yourself?" Tim asked as he ambled back with a sandwich.

"Looks like," Dick agreed. "I miss food."

"Alfred's rules," Tim answered. "Stay in bed, hospital food, daily reports."

"We're already breaking one of those," Dick pointed out. "What's one more?"

"No," Tim said. "You're won't be the one who has to clean it up. You look better though," he added, sitting down next to him. "I mean, not good enough to take out six armed street thugs or anything, but better."

"Thanks," Dick said cheerfully. "Tim, I'm," he broke off, glancing over at Tim for a second. "I'm glad you're here."

"That's just because the demon child would be the most unsympathetic nurse ever," Tim said with a smile.

"No," Dick insisted. "It's because you're my little brother too. Now can you help me up please?"

Tim kind of half grinned and half grimaced. Dick started wondering if there was a word for that expression, decided there should be one but before he could decide what it should be Tim was pulling him up.

The last set of stairs was hell. Dick was pretty sure that he blacked out there for several seconds because suddenly he and Tim were suddenly sitting on the floor with stairs digging into their backs. "Sorry," he muttered weakly.

"No biggie," Tim said breathlessly.

"Drake what are you doing?" Damian snarled from somewhere above his head.

"Helping me," Dick said, even though it came out as a slurred mess of syllables instead of actual words.

"Obviously not that well," Damian insisted. "Grayson, I have hacked into the surveillance tapes from around where I found the bodies but there are hours of footage. It's going to take forever to go through it."

"I'll go through it in a minute," Dick said. "When I get off the floor."

"Also off me," Tim pointed out from behind him.

"That'd be good too."

Damian sighed very loudly, reached down and kind of pulled Dick off the stairs. Somehow Dick ended up more or less on top of him long enough for Tim to scramble up and grab Dick's other side. "Med bay," Tim muttered and like some clumsy three headed monster they managed to stumble over to the bed.

"Thanks guys," Dick muttered as he grabbed onto the mattress and dragged himself up onto it. "I'll help in a minute okay? Just one minute." He was still mumbling those words as his head hit the pillow and his eyes shut.


	11. Chapter 11

**Yup. That new month resolution didn't really help that much. Sorry. **

Dick didn't sleep. He wished he would because it probably would have been way less painful but he couldn't. He just kind of sprawled out across the bed, shut his eyes and held onto the sheets until the world stopped rolling around underneath him. For a few seconds he wondered if this whole thing had been a good idea but then they were over and he didn't regret it. He shuttered forcefully and wondered if he was getting a fever or if it was just cold down in the Batcave.

"Damian?" he asked without opening his eyes.

"Yes," he heard the boy answer back moodily. God, what was that child going to be like when he became a teenager? He was going to be practically impossible. No, he was already practically impossible – what was worse than practically impossible?

Completely impossible, Dick thought miserably.

"Is Tim here?" Dick still couldn't be bothered looking. The moment he lifted up his eyelids everything would seem blindingly bright and make his headache so much, so he was going to put it off as long as possible.

"He thinks we are wasting our time," Damian said. "He's training or something."

"Kay," Dick murmured.

"Why?" Damian asked. Dick almost smiled at the slightly jealous note in Damian's voice. Sometimes it amazed him that he was even alive standing between the two of them.

"I just need some water," he rasped. "Then we can get started."

He heard Damian walk away from him. God I must be running a fever, he thought to himself. I almost called him back because I don't want to be alone. He sighed loudly and was pleasantly surprised to find that it didn't hurt that much. He was cold though, and he started to shiver.

"Grayson."

"Yup?" he answered without moving.

"Here's your water."

"Oh." That seemed worth facing the bright world so he pried opened his eyes and found himself looking into Damian's curious glare. "Thanks."

"You look terrible," Damian said.

"Don't feel great either," he answered, sitting up slowly and sipping the water. He was really thirsty but after the first time he'd gulped back a cup of water and thrown it all up again he learned the value of little mouthfuls. "How are you?"

"Fine," Damian said.

"You cold?" Dick asked after a sip of water and some teeth chattering.

"No," Damian looked at him with a piercing gaze that was alarmingly similar to Bruce's. "Maybe if you were under the blanket instead of sitting on it, you'd be warmer," he said coolly.

"Uhh, good point," Dick agreed. "Come on, we've still for a few hours before you've got to go out again right? Let's see what we can find out."

"All right," Damian said. "Doesn't that mean we need to be over there?" Damian pointed over to the computer screens.

"Yes," Dick agreed.

"Can you get there?" Damian pointed out practically.

"Probably," he said.

It was an exhausting trip across the Cave to the computer consul, but he managed it without vomiting, passing out and hurting Damian, who spent the whole time hovering around him anxiously and trying to look like he wasn't. "Could you bring me that blanket?" he asked, a little pathetically as he pulled his legs up onto the chair. His whole body was shaking with cold.

"Yes Grayson, I am your butler," he snapped but he did it anyway.

By the time he'd got back Dick was fast forwarding through the footage from a few street cameras. "Here," Damian said, throwing the blanket up around his shoulders and almost tucking it there before moving closer to the computer. "It's going to take forever."

"Thanks," Dick said, pulling it tighter around his chest. "Do you have any footage from the eaten by dogs guy?"

"Yes," Damian said, pointing over to another monitor.

"Did you ask the computer to cross reference the footage?"

"Yes," he said, glaring at Dick. "I'm not an idiot."

About an hour later Dick was fighting ever single second to keep his eyes open. He hadn't found anything yet and judging by Damian's increasingly irritated tsks he hadn't either. Dick caught his head as it dropped down onto his legs and dragged it back up. That was pretty helpful, only his eyes couldn't seem to focus. So not actually that helpful really. And suddenly his head was on his knees again.

"Damn it," he mumbled sleepily.

"How's it going?" That was Tim.

"Grayson fell asleep," Damian answered.

"Didn't," Grayson said, lifting up his head with a surprising burst of energy. The world didn't quite look the way he remembered. All the colours seemed brighter, everything looked clearer. Nothing was pulsing along with his heartbeat. "I just closed my eyes for a minute."

"Dick, it's seven thirty," Tim said. "That was more than a few minutes."

"Damn it," Dick said. "Sorry Damian, I didn't mean to pass out on you there."

"Tt," Damian responded, but he looked surprisingly sympathetic behind Tim's back.

"I'll be more useful now," he said. "I promise."

"My father thinks you getting better is the most useful thing you can do," Damian pointed out. "Perhaps you should focus on that. I can manage this you know."

"I know Damian," he said with a tired smile. "But I want to help you."

"I'll get you some tea," Tim said. "And maybe some dinner and then we'll go out on patrol."

"Yes Drake," Damian sneered. "You can be the servant. Perhaps you will be better at it then you were at being Robin."

"Don't start," Dick said firmly. "Damian, leave Tim alone. Tim, thank you, dinner would be awesome." He yawned, but he didn't think he was going to fall back asleep either. "Did you find anything while I was out?"

The computer beeped. Dick looked over at it. So did Tim and Damian. The colour trained from Tim's face when the caller id came up.

"Shit," he whispered. "It's Alfred."


	12. Chapter 12

**Sorry this one's kind of short and not super awesome. I promise to try really hard to get more written (notice that I didn't promise I would, just that I'd try :P) **

"We have to answer," Tim said shakily. Dick nodded, wished he hadn't and then stood up. The world lurched and he grabbed at his chair. One hand missed it completely and landed on Damian's shoulder. Damian's hand snapped up to grab Dick's arm.

"Quick," Dick panted. "You're like three rings away from him stealing the Bat Rocket and flying over here."

"Well hide!" Tim groaned. "Quickly or I'm as good as dead."

"Here, Grayson," Damian said, dragging him a few unsteady steps away from the computer consul and half dropping him on the floor.

"Ah," Dick grunted as his landing jarred his head.

"Master Timothy," Alfred's voice came from the computer. "How are you?"

"Shh," Damian hissed at Dick. "Stay here."

"Right," he whispered back. He was still shaking, but whether it was from cold or exhaustion or another fever, he didn't know. Suddenly he was very aware that his teeth were chattering loudly. Hopefully not loud enough for Alfred to hear. Damian crawled away and grabbed the blanket off the chair.

"I'm fine Alfred, how are you?" Tim said smoothly. Dick had to admit, he was very good at lying. "And Bruce? Is he okay?"

Damian looked over at Dick. His colour had just gone really white and he even though he was shivering, there was sweat on his face. "You all right?" Damian mouthed at him from just out of the line of sight from the camera. Dick gulped and nodded his head a few inches.

"Yes, yes we're fine," Alfred said. "We've arrived in Hong Kong and are settling into our, well, our accommodations. How is master Richard doing?"

"He's okay," Tim said. "Driving us all crazy with how he doesn't want to stay in bed but I think he's all right."

"Don't throw up," Damian hissed at Dick, looking over at Tim urgently. Dick nodded and kind of twisted his mouth. He wasn't going to open it. He hadn't vomitted yet, he probably wasn't going to, but suddenly he wasn't sure he wanted to stake the contents of his stomach on that.

"Good," Alfred said. "Have you check him for fever and infection since I left?"

"No," Tim said. "I was planning on doing it when I gave him dinner but I haven't got to it yet. He must be asleep, I haven't heard him shout that he's bored in like twenty minutes." Alfred chuckled. "Anyway we're all fine here."

"Where's Master Damian?"

"Here Pennyworth," Damian said, standing up as Dick gagged a little. "Drake may be incompetent but he has managed to keep himself alive this far, it seems unlikely he'd screw it up now."

"Perhaps I am just fond of Master Timothy," Alfred said. "And I see you're well as well. I'm glad." Damian didn't say anything just crossed his arms and sort of smiled. Dick could just barely see the expression. It looked a little bit like a snarl, but mostly affectionate snarl at least. Dick swallowed a mouthful of bile.

"Is my father there?" Damian asked. Tim threw a nervous glance over at Dick but Alfred didn't seem to notice.

"Yes, although he's not in at the moment," Alfred said. "I will tell him you were enquiring."

"Fine," Damian agreed. "I'm getting ready for patrol now."

"Very well."

Dick managed to keep his groan very quiet and sank down lower on the floor. Damian walked back out of the camera's line of sight and dropped down to Dick's level. He looked slightly concerned and very hesitantly put his hand on Dick's forehead. He shook his head a little at Dick's curious expression.

"Well, please take care of Master Richard," Alfred said. "And give him my love when he wakes up."

"We will," Tim agreed. "Say hi to Bruce for us."

"I will," Alfred agreed. "Do be careful tonight."

"I always am!" he answered lightly. "Talk to you tomorrow."

Staying upright suddenly became too much effort for Dick entirely, even if it was only a few inches. He groaned a little and pitched forward. Damian growled and leaned in to catch him.

"It's okay," Tim said, as he severed the connection and dropped down next to them. "Dick you still with us?"

"A little," he mumbled into Damian's costume.

"What's wrong with you?" Damian asked, shifting a bit so Dick's head was less driving itself into his shoulder and more cradled in his arms.

"You're running a bit of a fever Dick," Tim said. "Not has high as last time but enough that you really should be in bed."

"Help Damian," Dick mumbled.

"We'll figure it out tonight," Tim said.

"I don't need Drake's help," Damian snapped.

"Not a good time Damian," Dick muttered. "Come on, I'm not sure I can get off the floor without help."


	13. Chapter 13

Dick woke up the next morning, very early, because Tim and Damian were coming into the Cave. Waking up wasn't particularly bad, but he was pretty sure that it was a really bad night because he didn't remember most of it. He was wrapped up in an alarming number of blankets. He was too hot, but not in a feverish way just in a clearly-my-brothers-went-way-over-board-with-the-b edding kind of way.

He couldn't see them, they were around the corner but he could hear them, even though they were trying to be quiet. Their voices sounded like low mumbles but he was pretty sure they were arguing. He didn't call for them or anything, just let them go upstairs. Damian was the height of grumpiness after a long night out on patrol. Tim had very thoughtfully left him a water bottle, a glass of juice, some painkillers and a few different food options, so he didn't really need either of them. They might as well get some sleep.

After a drink and a few mild pain pills Dick sat up, held very still and prepared himself for whatever hellish punishment his body was going to force him through next. Other than a headache, it really wasn't that had. Still,after yesterday he was pretty sure he couldn't push himself too hard. Not that he was going to give up on Damian's murder case or admit how crappy he was feeling but since he was alone and being completely honest with himself he kind of wished he was dead.

He ate breakfast, which consisted of crackers and little cups of applesauce that Alfred had made, had another short nap and then settled in for about seven minutes of resting. Then he got bored again.

He could almost see the computer but it seemed to be slightly unrealistic for him to get all the way over there without someone holding him up. So, helping Damian was just about out, at least for the mean time. What else could he do? Well, Bruce wanted him to be able to stand upright for a speech. He could probably practice that.

Once he'd unbundled himself from all the blankets he stood up. He didn't try to move, just to stand and wait for either dizziness or nausea or a pounding headache and none of them came. Or at least not right away.

After about forty five seconds he started to feel it.

So he sat back down, pulled the top blanket up around his shoulders and flopped into his pillows.

After about a half hour he tried again. Fifty seconds.

A half an hour later he tried again and made it really, damn close to a minute.

And then another half hour for a minute and eight seconds.

"Dick, what are you doing?" Tim asked quietly.

"Standing," he said, through clenched teeth. He leaned back into his bed and dragged himself up onto it. "That was good," he panted as Tim pushed him up onto the mattress and covered him up again with a blanket. "That was like a minute ten. You think Bruce's speech will be more than a minute ten?"

"Probably," Tim said. "Sorry."

"Damn," Dick said. "Oh well, I've got a few more days to practice."

"Feel better then?" Tm asked. "You look better."

"How was patrol last night?"

"Mostly fine," Tim said with a sigh. Dick looked at him questioningly. "We found a couple other of Damian's kills. Another two bodies."

"Did you see the bodies from the night before?"

"No, but Damian did. Surprisingly he didn't want to talk to me about what he found. Maybe you can talk to him?"

"Sure," Dick said. "Where is he?" Tim shrugged. "He'll turn up eventually I'm sure," Dick said. "Hey, so if I promise not to pass out or puke will you help me over to the computer console to help you guys out?"

"I'm not sure you can keep that promise," Tim said. Dick frowned. "But whatever, I'm breaking enough promises already. Let's do this."

It went pretty well, all things considered. Tim pulled Dick up almost into his arms, wrapped him up there tightly and together they made their way across to the chair. He was shaking, but other than that he felt pretty okay.

"Would you mind getting me some water?" Dick asked breathlessly.

"Not at all," Tim said. "You really don't have to do this. Maybe you should just keep working on the standing thing. That's more important and Damian and I've got this."

"What'd you find out?" Dick croaked. Seriously, when did walking across the Batcave become so exhausting.

"You're impossible," Tim groaned. "Stay here, don't die and I'll be back in a second."

Dick nodded.

Tim came back a minute or so later with that water bottle from beside the bed. He opened it and handed it to Dick. After he had a few mouthfuls he looked back at the computer screen. "So?" he asked. "What about the other bodies?"

"What about them?" Tim asked, sitting down next to him.

"Details would be good," Dick said. "Were they like the two Damian found? Shot and then mauled by something?"

"Yup," Tim agreed. "One out by the dock and the other in an dumpster. The thing is, if we're only finding two a night there's no telling how many people are getting killed every night."

"Right," Dick said. "Well give me the addresses, I'll look for footage. With four crime scenes we're bound to be able to find something right?"

"Probably," Tim agreed. "Are you sure you're up to it though? I mean, you did just tell me you managed to stand for a minute and ten seconds. You're going to have to like quadruple that if you want to make it through any speech Bruce has ever given. Maybe you should focus on that."

"I will," Dick promised "I'll sit for an hour and do this, then stand for a minute and eleven seconds."

"Not what I meant," Tim said.

Dick grinned at him and picked up where he'd left off then he'd fallen asleep. Tim groaned. "Fine. If I leave you unsupervised for an hour while I go have a shower and do a few things will you pass out?"

"Nope, I'm good," Dick said. "Enjoy being clean."


	14. Chapter 14

**Sorry this is going so slowly and kind of lamely. I'm going to try to be better. I swear. **

Dick did pretty well for almost an hour. He sipped the water every time he felt himself nodding off and he set up as many cross reference checks as he could think of. Unfortunately the computer hadn't find anything before he dozed off.

Equally unfortunately, that was the time that Damian reappeared from where ever he'd been hiding. "Grayson," he snapped when he came down into the Cave.

"Mm?" he asked sleepily, lifting his head and squinting at Damian. "Hey Damian. How are you doing? How was patrol?"

"Fine," he said. "And it was fine. You aren't fine. Why aren't you in bed?"

"I'm helping," he said with a yawn. "I was just taking a nap. Look," he said, pointing to screens. "I haven't found anything about who's done it, but look there's a clear sniper angle from buildings around each of the sites of the murders."

"Obviously," Damian muttered at him.

"But," Dick continued, "they all have stair access. There were a few other potential places they could have shot from, but they didn't. Whoever did it they only used buildings they could climb up," he yawned so widely it hurt his head, "on their feet."

"So you think they are just a standard boring assassin," Damian asked. "Also, shouldn't you be resting? Yesterday was a disaster. If Pennyworth finds out that you are out of bed..."

"Damian, what's going on?" Dick asked turning away from the computer. Suddenly he was terrified. It was one thing for Damian not to insult him every three minutes, it was another thing for him to express concern for Dick's welfare. Something wasn't right. He also wished he'd made Tim bring him a blanket because now he was cold again. "You haven't told me to go die in like two days and it wouldn't even be that much effort for me to do it right now. Are you okay?"

"Yes," Damian snapped. "So do you think then that the killer is a standard, normal, human assassin?"

"Maybe," Dick agreed. "But then there has to be a pattern to the kills. Once we find it we'll have a better idea. And you didn't answer my question Damian."

"Nothing is wrong with me Grayson!" he snarled. "Why do you persist in this?"

"Because next thing I know you'll be hugging Tim and I'm not sure I can handle that," Dick said.

"I will not hug Drake!" Damian snapped. "I'm just," he broke off quickly and made an irritating tt sound, "Don't want you to die. Particularly from something as embarrassing as brain surgery."

"Damian," Dick said, throwing his arm out to grab the boy's shoulder. Damian looked at him suspiciously but Dick just smiled. There was the Damian he knew and loved. "I'm not going anywhere. I'm not going die and I'm not going to to go away just because Bruce's back. I'll always be here to go through hours and hours of street camera footage with you if that's what it takes to solve a case. Even if I keep falling asleep."

"Tt."

"I gotta stand up," Dick informed him.

"Why? Damian asked.

"'Cause Bruce needs me to stand up for this speech that he's giving."

"You'll fall."

"Thanks for your vote of confidence," Dick muttered.

He set his teeth determinedly and pushed the chair back, forcing his weight up onto his legs. As expected it hurt. He took a deep breath and started to count. Damian sat next to him with one eyebrow raised quizzically and Dick managed a tight smile at him.

About a second before Dick realized he was going to fall down, Damian did. He sprang up, grabbed Dick and forced him back into the chair.

"Thanks Damian," he muttered, catching the boy and not letting go of him for a little longer than was strictly necessary. It was nice to know that Damian was close to him. God what was he going to do when Bruce came back and took his Robin away? Could Nightwing use a little sidekick with a bad attitude?

But no, that wouldn't be fair to the boy. He deserves to train with Bruce, Dick hissed at himself. God if it wasn't for this pounding headache he wouldn't even be having these stupid thoughts.

Damian didn't pull away right away either. Bruce must have shaken him up more that Dick realized. Dick wished Damian would admit it, so they could talk it over, maybe, _maybe _share a hug and then move on as best they could but that was about as likely to happen as a heart to heart with Bruce that involved chocolate and chick flicks. Dick wouldn't know what to do with that anyway.

Even if he didn't really want to let go of the kid, figuratively and literally, he also didn't want to embarrass Damian by letting Tim find them almost hugging.

"How long was that?" he asked breathlessly as he let go.

"One minute and eight seconds," Damian said.

"Damn it, I'm getting worse," Dick muttered. "Maybe I need a nap."

"Why don't you do that then?" Damian suggested. "I will continue your research."

"Sounds good," Dick agreed. "Is it okay if I do that here? I don't think I'm going to make it over to the bed."

"Yes," Damian agreed.

"Kay," he said with a yawn.


	15. Chapter 15

**Thanks everyone who's been super nice about this. Also patient. I'm not super confident in this story but loads of people have been really supportive and kind and that's been really awesome. You guys rock. **

When Dick woke up he noticed a few things. One, there was a blanket covering his chest. Two, Damian was sitting next to him, clicking away at something on the computer. Three, Tim was on the other side of Damian and neither of them were killing each other. Damn, was there must be an apocalypse.

"What's happened?" he asked urgently, if a little sleepily. The two of them setting side by side and neither of them had any new bruises? Clearly Gotham was falling into the sea. Which would have been pretty impossible but it was about the only thing he could think of that could possible explain the lack of shouting.

"Nothing," Damian said. "Well, we've found the assassin."

"That counts as something," Dick said, or kind of croaked a little. Tim silently handed him a water bottle from somewhere. Was there ever a situation he wasn't prepared for? Dick grimaced his thanks and had a mouthful. "Who is he?"

"Jackson Brown," Damian said, sighing very loudly. "You were right. He seems to be a completely standard, boring hired gun who has never done anything remotely interesting."

"Who's he working for?" Dick asked. Damian shrugged. Tim shook his head. Dick almost grinned and made a crack about their detective skills but stopped himself suddenly. Bruce was back, there was going to be a lot more criticism getting thrown around the Cave. Why kick start it early?

"We'll find out tonight," Tim said, looking at Dick with weird expression caught somewhere between scepticism and confusion. "Now that we know who we're looking for it shouldn't be too hard to catch up with him." Dick nodded. "You wanna have dinner with me before we leave on patrol?"

"Absolutely!" Dick agreed. "As long as it's down here," he added as an after thought. "I need to practice standing, I'm not ready for another up the stairs adventure."

"Uh, you make everything so difficult," Tim whined playfully. "Fine. I'll bring it down here."

"Damian, will you eat with us?" Dick asked. Damian glared at Tim very forcefully but he nodded after looking at Dick quickly.

"I don't suppose you're going to help me get it ready are you?" Tim asked.

"I will not do Pennyworth's job," Damian snapped.

"You're damn lucky I'm here Dick," Tim said meanly. "Otherwise your Robin would have let you starve to death."

"I would not let Grayson starve to death," Damian snarled.

"No," Dick groaned.

Damian was crouching defensively, like he was getting ready to spring into an attack and Tim had raised both his fists like he was about ready to punch the flying Damian that seemed pretty inevitable. "No!" Dick shouted, forcing himself out of the chair as fast as he could. "Ow!" he shouted, as a hot poker jabbed at his brain.

"Sorry," Tim said a little sheepishly. Damian grabbed Dick and forced him back into the chair. Dick tried to glare at both of them, although it wasn't nearly as ferociously as Damian.

"Damian, stop being mean to Tim. He's pulling more weight around here than either of us so either you say thanks or you shut up. Tim, Damian isn't the brat who tried to kill you the first time you met and I trust him. So either accept that or shut up. Any questions?"

Neither of them spoke.

"Excellent," Dick said. "Is there anything I can do to help with dinner Tim?"

"Don't pass out," Tim answered. "I'll be right back." He was short about it, but Dick got that. Tim had been on his own for a long time, living here again with Damian throwing mental daggers at him all day and Dick depending on him for every little thing was probably pretty frusterating.

Damian didn't say anything, just sat back down and started typing at something. Dick reached for a keyboard too and ran through a few things that he'd stated running before his nap. Damian was going to talk, Dick could tell, so he was just trying to look busy until Damian did.

"Grayson," Damian said suddenly. "You said before that being angry at people was part of loving them."

"Okay," Dick agreed. "That sounds like something I would say."

"So even though you are angry at me right now..." he trailed off nervously.

"Yeah Damian," Dick agreed with a smile. "Of course." Damian nodded twice. "But you need to let up on Tim a little," Dick continued. "You don't have to like him, but I need to know that the pair of you aren't going to take this too far someday and get someone hurt. And if you want Bruce to trust you, you're going to need to back off."

"Fine," Damian agreed reluctantly. "And I wouldn't let you starve."

"I know," Dick said. "Damn I wish I was going out with you tonight."

"You looked like you were going to faint when you stood up. You couldn't even get into the Batsuit."

"Obviously," Dick muttered. "That doesn't mean I have to like it."

Tim came down a few minutes later with three bowls of Alfred soup. "Nice!" Dick said as Tim awkwardly set the tray down. "Why are you guys all on hospital food too?"

"Because I didn't want to warm up anything else," Tim said. "Honestly, remind me to send Alfred thank you flowers or something. I haven't been nearly grateful enough."

"None of us have," Dick agreed. "Thanks Tim, for everything. What kind of flowers should I send you?"

Tim looked like he was considering punching Dick but thought the better of it just in time. Dick was grateful for that too. It would have hurt a lot to get punched by his little brother and the possibility that Damian would respond by trying to decapitate Tim seemed a little high.

"So has anyone heard from Bruce?" Dick asked as he started on his soup. Suddenly he felt like he needed a week's worth of food to consume just to make up for the last few days. His food as half gone and the other neither of his brothers had more than a few spoonfuls. Apparently being hungry enough even stopped him from worrying about how hot the soup was.

"Yeah I talked to Alfred earlier," Tim said. "Things seem to mostly be going okay, Alfred was a little vague on what they're doing exactly. I think they've touched base with Cass though, so I assume that's a good thing."

"Do you think he'll bring her home with him?" Damian asked with passive interest.

"Who knows," Tim said. "I'm not sure what he's trying to accomplish there but he might fill us in later if he really has to. Maybe. You know Bruce."

Dick smiled as he scrapped the last of his soup up. Damian frowned.

"But anyway, Alfred seems to be okay with whatever Bruce's up to, so it can't be that bad."

"I'm comforted," Dick agreed. He made a ridiculous face as he tried to keep his teeth together while yawning, in hopes that Tim wouldn't notice, give him a vaguely Alfred like concerned glance and bundle him off to bed. He hoped it worked because it sure hurt his head.

"Right," Tim agreed.

"Where are you going to start looking for the assassin tonight?" Dick asked. "The kills are kind of all over the place."

"Yeah, we've got a lot of ground to cover," Tim agreed.

"But we'll find him," Damian insisted.

"I know," Dick said. "I'm just struggling with my feelings of jealous that I don't get to go with you." Tim smirked and Dick grinned at him, even though it seemed like a lot of effort.

"Once we've finished you need to get your ass back in bed," Tim said. "We'll tell you all about it tomorrow."

"You're mean," Dick muttered.

"You were raised by the Batman," Tim pointed out. "You can take it."


	16. Chapter 16

**Oh my god I'm so, so sorry this took so long. I like being busy, but I go a little crazy without some writing time every day or two so this hasn't been the best week ever. **

That morning when he heard them come in Dick decided to get out of bed to talk to them, knowing that it was probably a bad idea. But they weren't arguing the same way they had the night before and it was worrying him.

Neither of them looked half as bad as he felt, so that was a relief. So much of a relief he almost sat down on the floor to catch his breath. A quick examination of that idea led him to the fatal flaw in it – getting back up, so he decided against it.

Leaning against the Cave wall pretty hard Dick smiled at his brothers and asked, "how'd it go?"

"We didn't find him," Tim said. Damian just glared.

"Sorry," Dick muttered. "You guys go to bed. I'll see if I can find something else."

"Or you could go back to bed too," Tim pointed out, but he was clearly too tired and pissed off to put a lot of effort into it.

"Okay," Dick agreed.

Everyone headed off in the direction of where ever they were going to sleep. Dick thought about it for a second. He'd gotten out of bed just fine. How hard could it possibly be to get back into it?

When he woke up in his bed a few hours later so sore he could hardly move he decided that it was probably harder than he thought it was going to be. There wasn't any food waiting for him this time, but that made sense. He'd told Tim to go to bed, not to prepare him breakfast. That made him feel like a better, if very hungry, person.

Waking up, not being able to move, starving and knowing that some crazy ass assassin was out there popping people and more or less driving his brothers crazy was kind of making this a day he wasn't sure he really wanted to go through at all but since he was awake, again, he decided he'd just have to deal with it.

The easiest thing to deal with was the pain. The pan meds were still hanging out on the table with a half consumed bottle of water. He gulped down a fistful of pills that would have made Alfred use his full name if he'd seen it, jammed his face back into his pillow and waited for them to start working. After a few minutes of counting his own heartbeat he lifted his head up again and slowly pushed himself into a sitting position.

After a while he managed to get himself upright, onto the floor and slowly shuffled over to the computer chair. It had wheels. Once he was in it he dragged himself along the walls until he found some food in the bar fridge he's put in when he started as Batman, mostly to keep milk in, and that he assumed Bruce would take out shortly. Apparently Tim had foreseen this because it was fully stocked with Alfred approved sick people food. He rolled the chair back to the computer and stated working on problem number three. The crazy assassin.

If tracking him directly hadn't worked out there had to be a way to anticipate him, who he would go after next, who he would beat be hitting next. Dick started cross referencing the victims with one small fraction of the Batcomputer's brain and then going through the news for any other possible victims.

Filtering through endless news reports was actually surprisingly tiring. So much so that Dick needed to pause long enough for a short nap.

It was about noon when Damian came down. He looked pretty pissed off. Not good.

Of course by now Dick had a standard procedure for pissed of Damian worked out. Step one was determine if he wanted to talk about anything, and if he did, move on to step two. If he didn't then step two was stay as far away from Damian as possible, unless of course the kid was doing something super self destructive.

"Grayson," he said as he took a bite out of the banana that was apparently his breakfast. "What are you doing?"

"Just working on something," Dick said. "Trying to figure out who hired boring normal assassin in this town. Doesn't he know that you can find way cooler help?"

"Apparently not," Damian muttered. "Are you better today?"

"Yup getting there," Dick agreed. "You know where Tim is?"

"Why?"

"Breakfast," Dick answered.

"I can get it," Damian informed him, grumpily. "What would you like?"

"At this point, I'd go for pretty much anything," Dick said. "Toast would be good."

"Fine," he agreed. "Stay here."

"I promise," Dick answered a little playfully. Damian didn't seem to get the joke though as he disappeared upstairs.

Dick waited until Damian was gone, then he pushed the chair back, and started to count. "Yeah!" he crowed as he sat back down. He was breathless and he could feel his heart beating like it was going to break its way through his rib cage but he was still grinning.

"Grayson, what are you doing?" Damian asked scornfully, coming down the stairs with a few pieces of toast and a cup of juice.

"Standing!" Dick said cheerfully. "That was a whole two minutes." Damian scowled at him.

"Here is your breakfast," Damian said. "Let me see what you are doing."

"Go for it," Dick agreed, jamming toast into his mouth. Alfred would probably have smacked him with a spoon if he'd seen that.

Dick ate and watched Damian go through his work from the morning. He was good, he was very good. Sometimes Dick wondered if all the other Robins would surpass him eventually. Well, Tim would for sure, and probably Damian too, if he could just check the attitude for a while. Bruce would help him be better, Bruce would make him the best Robin ever. Damian did deserve that chance and every time Dick repeated that to himself he almost convinced himself that he didn't mind at all.

"What?" Damian asked him suddenly.

"Huh?" Dick asked, pulling himself out of his thoughts.

"You were staring at me," Damian informed him.

"Sorry," Dick said. "I was just thinking."

"About what?" Damian asked.

"Nothing," Dick said. "This case. Something about it is bugging me but I can't figure it out. I don't know, it feels kind of familiar."

"My father must be so proud of your genius detective skills Grayson," Damian said.

"Thanks Damian," Dick agreed. "I'll figure it out and let you know."

"Oh, I'm reassured," Damian muttered. "I'm going to go punch something."

"Go for it," Dick said. As long is it wasn't Tim's head Dick was pretty comfortable with that.

Damian got up and left, leaving Dick alone to work. Or nap. Napping seemed like a good idea too.


	17. Chapter 17

By the time Tim and Damian were suiting up, Dick still hadn't worked out what it was about this case that was bothering him. He hadn't been able to stand for eight minutes either and he was so tired he could hardly see. The whole day felt like a complete waste of time.

"Dick, go to bed," Tim ordered him as he put his mask on.

"Something's still bugging me," Dick mumbled.

"We'll be fine Grayson," Damian snapped at him. "You look terrible. Drake may not be wrong this time."

"Holy crap," Dick groaned. "You guys agree on something. I must look like a corpse."

"Pretty much," Tim agreed. "Come on, I'm pretty sure moving you back to bed is a two man job." Dick shrugged his shoulders and let Tim drag him up. He was good at dragging Dick around, although he did have a lot of practice at this point. "Could you possibly just stay in bed this time?" he asked as he covered Dick up.

"Maybe," he murmured. "Damian?"

"What?" he asked.

"Be careful okay? Something about this isn't right. Just, watch your back."

"We'll be fine," Damian said a little scornfully. He grabbed the blankets and pulled them up a little higher on Dick's chest.

Dick tried, very, very hard to say something back but at best be managed a mumble.

At two thirty seven in the morning Dick woke up. It took him about three seconds to wonder why and about three more to realize what had been hanging around at the edge of his mind for the whole day. "Oh shit," he groaned.

Of course he didn't have a com or anything useful like that and he had to tell them right now because they had no idea what they were getting themselves into.

Dick threw off this blankets and lurched to his feet. He hit the ground too fast and couldn't get his balance back. Instead he went careening forwards with his head down. He managed to aim at the wall, in hopes that he could use it to straighten himself up. It didn't go well because the top of his head found it first.

It was so painful he blacked out for a second, hit the floor and only managed to avoid choking on his own vomit by sheer dumb luck. Shuttering he rolled away from the mess, spat and managed to drag himself up the wall. His head was thundering so much he couldn't see but he'd had the layout of the Batcave memorized since he was ten so he didn't need to.

"Red Robin, Robin, come in," he slurred frantically.

"Nighwing? Not a good time," Tim's voice came back clipped and Dick could hear the sound of fighting in the background.

"Red Robin, you need to get out now," Dick groaned desperately. "'Member when I told you something about it was bugging me? Well I figure it out and you have to get out now. You're not after a normal assassin, he's just the bait."

"Crap," Tim muttered. "That explains it. Can't talk right."

"Red Robin, are you okay?" Dick shouted while one arm clamped around his stomach which was enthusiastically throwing itself around in side him. "Where's Robin?"

"Here," Damian snapped urgently.

"Can't talk now," Tim said suddenly. "We'll check in in a minute."

"I'll call Batgirl."

"Do not send anyone else after us Nightwing," Tim sounded slightly desperate "This isn't the kind of fight where more backup's going to help."

"No!" Dick shouted. He stood up, not really meaning to and took a few steps towards the Batsuit but be couldn't get much further, he crashed into the floor again. "No!" he shouted again.

"Are you okay?" Damian panted through the link.

"I need to help you," he moaned.

"We'll be fine Nigthwing," Tim said desperately. He sounded winded like he'd just taken a punch. Dick groaned again.

"Tim," he said breathlessly. "Damian's okay?"

"Yes," Tim said. "I'll get back to you as quickly as I can. Stay there, don't do anything stupid, we'll be fine."

He shut off the com. Dick gasped and struggled a bit but he couldn't seem to get his limbs to do what they were supposed to, other than twitch and shutter. "No," he whimpered, rolling himself over in case he was about to puke again. He couldn't think of a more embarrassing way to die than choke to death on his own sick. Damian would probably blow off his funeral if that's how he died.

For at least thirty seconds gagging and the painful contractions of his stomach were all he could think about but once that passed the crippling fear for Damian and Tim came back.

He managed to drag himself a few inches closer to his costume, but it was pretty much useless. He wasn't going to be able to put it on, that was for sure. He couldn't even stand.

"Red Robin?" he asked again. "Are you okay?"

"Not so much," Tim answered. "I'm not sure what we're fighting, but he's making Bane look calm."

"One minute," Dick moaned.

It took him way more than a minute to crawl across the floor, grab onto the chair and drag himself up onto it. He was breathing so hard he couldn't see through each gasp. He threw up again, carefully not on the computer. "Robins where are you?" he managed to more or less spit into his communicator.

"On Seventh street, just north of Wayne Tower," Damian answered.

"Kay," Dick grunted at him.

Dick was completely sure that it was only the adrenaline that was the only thing that was holding him upright and capable of using his fingers at all. "Found you," he whispered when he called up the footage for the rooftop. "Okay, okay," Dick muttered. "Shit you never pick easy enemies do you?"

"Anything useful to add?" Damian snapped.

"Yes," Dick murmured. "He uses a weird, super unstable Venom compound. It's intense but short lived. If you can just keep him going for another I don't know, half hour he'll have a heart attack. Alternatively you can try to administer a sedative but you need to be careful which ones you try."

"What'll work?" Tim asked. "I've only got morphine."

"No."

"Damian what do you have?" Tim asked.

"Nothing," Damian answered. Dick watched the really large thug grab Damian as he leaped in from behind with a flying kick and slam him into the roof.

"Damian," Dick shouted as Tim landed in front of him and kicked the guy in the face while Damian crawled away. "Damian, are you okay?"

"Uh," he grunted.

"Nightwing, we need tips if we've got to keep alive for another half hour. Got any?" Tim sounded breathless and Dick could see that he was taking a pounding.

"His hearing is pretty bad," Dick mumbled. Damian, who was using the wall to stand himself back up, immediately throw a fistful of small explosives at his head. His head snapped around in confusion, giving Tim a few seconds to back away and catch his breath.

"Great," Tim agreed. "Don't suppose you can run any interference from where you are?"

"I'll try," Dick agreed. "Just stay alive okay?"

"Working on it," Tim answered.

Dick called Jim Gordon. "Turn your sirens on," was all he could manage to explain. "Anything that's loud. Run it all." He hacked into the sound system for the building next to the one they were fighting on and started blaring music through it.

"Did that help?" he asked. Or he tried to ask, he wasn't sure that words came out as more than a mumble. No one answered but when he looked at the cameras he could see that both of them were alive, looking exhausted but like they were doing a little better. At least, the Venom guy looked like he was struggling a lot more to land punches.

Quite suddenly he staggered, without being hit and fell down.

The second that happened Damian was on him. Dick could just imagine what Damian was snarling at him but suddenly he couldn't see very well again. He groaned and tried to push himself back from the computer because he was pretty sure more vomit was inevitable and he didn't want it to be all over Bruce's computer.

The world lurched underneath him throwing him violently to one side. "Damian," he groaned. "You okay?"

"Yes," he thought he heard back, but it was hard to tell over the roaring of the blood in his ears. He didn't want to fall that way, he'd thrown up on the floor earlier. He didn't want to lie in puke until Tim got home.

"Tim," he whispered, dragging himself with his arms and the desk in the other direction. If Tim replied, he didn't hear it. He didn't hear anything. "Damian."


	18. Chapter 18

**Look at me go! Two chapters in as many days. I wish I could promise to keep it up. Anyway, enjoy. **

Dick woke up because someone was touching his shoulders. Gently, but firmly. Not shaking him awake the way Damian did, not anxiously like Tim. He pried his eyes open a little and tried to lift his head. It worked, but suddenly he wasn't on the floor any more. He was looking up at the ceiling of the Cave. It was disorienting but Dick didn't mind. It was Bruce, Bruce had lifted him up. He didn't need to see to know that.

"Did Dami and Tim get back okay?" he asked kind of frantically, although it might just have come off as a pathetic mumble

"They're on their way now and I'm going to meet them," Bruce's voice rumbled next to his ear. "You were supposed to stay in bed."

"Are they okay?"

"Yeah," he said. "They're going to be fine."

"You sure?"

"Yes."

"Kay," Dick agreed sleepily. "I can go to bed then I guess." Bruce chuckled. Dick felt warmer, hearing Bruce laugh. "What?" he asked.

"It's almost like you think you have a choice," Bruce answered.

"I do," Dick insisted. "I walked myself over to the computer and stood up for almost five minutes yesterday. I can take myself upstairs."

"That's nice," Bruce answered. Dick couldn't decide if Bruce didn't believe him or if there was another reason he was still being carried up the stairs. He'd never, ever tell anyone ever, least of all Bruce or Damian, but on the rare occasion Damian was hurt enough or tired enough or upset enough to be carried, Dick kind of loved it. Not that Damian was in some kind of distress of course, he usually felt like he'd sell his soul to make the boy better, but sometimes he was just happy his little bird was in his arms, safe, warm, right where he belonged.

Bruce, had he ever felt that way? Could he still?

Dick wasn't going to fight him this time.

"How was your trip?"

"Fine," Bruce said.

"Short," Dick observed.

"Alfred didn't think you were following his orders and then I heard a news report about weird killings in Gotham. They reminded me of a case that almost killed you in Bludhaven and I accidentally mentioned it to Alfred. His worrying became so obnoxious I had to bring him back," Bruce explained gently as he climbed the stairs. "Turns out he was right."

"Sorry," Dick muttered.

"Never mind," Bruce said as he pushed his way into Dick's bedroom. "I'd forgotten a few things anyway. Important things."

He set the Dick into his bed, carefully holdings his head with one hand as he got the pillows in place with the other.

"Bruce," Dick said.

"Yes?"

"I threw up in your Cave," Dick mumbled.

"Wouldn't be the first time," Bruce answered, pulling the blankets up around his shoulders.

"Twice."

"Alfred's going to come up and watch you in a few minutes while I go help Tim and Damian all right?" Bruce said. Dick wondered if he had a fever, he was pretty sure Bruce was sitting on the edge of the bed and resting his hand on Dick's forehead, but that seemed like a singularly un-Bruce kind of thing for him to be doing. He was smiling too, fondly, affectionately. "Stay here and rest okay Dick? I'll take care of the others but you need to rest. I need you to rest."

"Kay," Dick agreed. "Damian's just a kid. Is he okay?"

"I'm going to find out right now," Bruce promised. "Don't move or I'll let Alfred handcuff you to the bed."

"What's going on Bruce?" Dick asked, fighting through the heaviness of his limbs and the confusion clouded his brain. Something about the way Bruce was looking at him, it wasn't the way he remembered Bruce looking at him. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing Dick," he said quickly. "You're all right, everything's fine. You rest. I'll find Tim and Damian, I promise."

"Master Bruce," Alfred said from somewhere outside of Dick's line of sight. "I'll watch him. Go."

"I'll see you in the morning," Bruce said, taking his hand away from Dick's face. If it wasn't Damian and Tim's life on the line he'd probably have begged Bruce to stay.

"Kay," Dick agreed. "Alfie, I'm sorry."

"Never mind Master Richard," Alfred said. "I'm going to put you back on a fluid drip all right? Just go to sleep, you'll be all right okay?"

"Tim, Damian?" Dick repeated, like a broken record.

"Master Bruce will have them home safe and sound before you've even got your fluids back up. Just rest now."


	19. Chapter 19

**So, I don't wish to alarm anyone but I think this is the last chapter. I'm happy (and sad 'cause I really enjoyed writing it) with it as it is now. Of course, I thought it was over after the first chapter, so I guess there's some wiggle from if anyone has any genius ideas where to take it next. If not... thank you everyone because you have all been way greater than this story deserves. **

Whatever Alfred put in that IV drip, it was more than just fluids because Dick spent the next unmeasurable amount of time staring up at the ceiling and wondering which colour it actually was. Alfred stayed with him the whole time.

He really wanted to ask Alfred what was going on, he really wanted to ask if Tim and Damian were okay, he really wanted to ask what had brought Bruce home but the words were as difficult to nail down as the colour of the ceiling. A few times he got close to phrasing a question but Alfred kept putting a hand on his shoulder. "Hush Master Richard," he repeated. "They'll be back shortly."

After his fifth attempt, Alfred said firmly, "Master Richard, if you don't stop, I will give you a stronger dose." He grunted and flopped his face into his pillow has hard as he could. "Just rest Dick," Alfred repeated quietly.

Dick might have dozed off, because the next thing he was aware of was Bruce's voice.

"Yes Master Bruce he's fine," Alfred said softly.

"He didn't look fine Alfred," Bruce said breathlessly. "He didn't."

"I know," Alfred said very patiently. "But it looked much worse than it was. The blood in his hair was from a few stitches that came out which was going to happen in the next few days regardless. He was sick either from pain or dizziness, both common and completely expected side effects of brain surgery. He may not seem that way right now, but he is in better shape now than when he left. Most of what's wrong with him now is exhaustion."

"Are you sure?"

"Absolutely," Alfred said. "How are the others?"

"All right," Bruce said. "Pretty beaten up though. Would you mind checking on them?"

"Of course not," Alfred answered. "If you will stay with him. He's been very restless. I believe he's still very worried for Masters Timothy and Damian."

"Yeah, yeah of course," Bruce agreed.

They moved, Dick couldn't quite see them, but he could hear them shuffling around. "Is there anything I should do?" Bruce asked. He was very close to Dick, Dick could feel the heat from his body and instinctively tried to shift himself towards it.

"Well if you can keep him calm that certainly would help," Alfred said. "And convincing him to sleep would be a ideal, but I suspect that's unrealistic."

"Should we give him more meds?"

"I'd rather not," Alfred answered. "He's at the point where we should be starting to shift him to weaker painkillers. Of course, if he becomes completely unmanageable I will reconsider that. Is that everything?"

Bruce didn't answer but Dick heard Alfred leave. They were all right, just a little banged up, But Bruce's idea of pretty banged up was only a few inches away from a coma and he wanted they both to be okay so badly it made his chest hurt. Damian had hit that roof top really hard. There was no way he didn't have something fractured. Alfred could bandaged him up but Damian needed him.

"Dick," Bruce said. His voice was shaky, which was weird. "Settled down son. You're going to make it worse." It wasn't the words that stopped Dick from thrashing around in frusteration. It was that quiver in Bruce's voice.

Bruce was brushing the hair out of his eyes. He was probably going to gripe about how much Dick needed a hair cut and ask him where he'd been keeping it all in the cowl. Dick wasn't going to mind though, he decided, sleepily, through the weird twisting thoughts in his brain. He was just going to be happy to have Bruce back.

"Dick?" he asked very quietly into the dark. Dick tried to move his face towards Bruce, only to find that it was pressed against something, a pillow or possibly Bruce's leg. Answering with his voice was just way too much effort so he didn't respond at all. "I forgot what I came back for, Dick," he said softly. "I fought so hard to get back, I forgot that I was trying to get back to you. And Tim and Alfred and all the others. I'm sorry."

Even if he'd been able to get his tongue to work, there really wasn't anything to say.

Time wasn't passing right for Dick, he didn't know how much had passed, he couldn't have even guessed. His heart was still pounding much too hard and every sound made him jump a little but Bruce was sitting next to him. Nothing bad could happen to him, not if Bruce was there with him. It became a chant in the back of his head. Nothing bad could happen if Bruce was there. Nothing bad could happen.

The light from the hall felt too bright. It hurt his eyes, he tried to shove his face into whatever it was that his head was leaning against. Darkness was safer, gentler.

"Grayson!" Damian demanded hoarsely from the light.

"Hey Damian," Dick answered. Or tried to, but it mostly came out as a shapeless mumble. He wasn't too worried about because, with the the possible exception of Alfred, Damian was the most qualified Dick-Grayson-barely-conscious interpreter alive.

"Are you all right?" Damian asked. Dick mumbled his answer. "You don't look good." Mumble. "Well, you insist on doing everything the hardest way possible." Mutter. "Drake is also fine."

"Dick," Tim said from somewhere above him. "I'm all right too. Thanks to you." Mutter.

"Now that everyone has been reassured of everyone else's continued life and relative health I suggest that everyone get some rest," Alfred said gently.

Dick mumbled something very quietly. Without saying anything, Damian glared around the room slowly, making sure everyone met his eye and daring them to say something about it and climbed onto the bed next to Dick. He curled up with his head on the pillow beside Dick;s so his back was up against Dick's side. No one was foolish enough to even acknowledge what Damian had done, other than Dick, who managed a tired smile.

Brice didn't move from the well worn and very comfortable chair he was sitting in and Tim took a few steps into the bedroom.

"I don't know," Tim said quietly. "I think we're all okay in here tonight Alfred."

"Very well," he agreed. "I think we can find a few more arm chairs."


End file.
